As A Bat
by pottermalfoy24
Summary: AU! When Voldemort tried to kill Harry as a child his aim was off. Now how will history be changed by a blind Harry Potter? Will be HD eventually. Rating will go up.
1. How Things Are Different

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, Scholastic and Bloomsbury. No copyright infringement is intended and no money has changed hands. _

A/N: Sorry, this isn't part of LBA. This on kind of came up and bit me on the butt, and I just had to try it. It's an odd concept, so please tell me what you think! 

Enjoy!

* * *

**As A Bat**

How Things Are Different

_Godric's Hollow, October 31, 1981..._

James smiled as his baby son stood up on wobbly legs and walked from his mother's side to him. Harry was a delight to both of his parents, and they could only hope that the ongoing war that raged around their ears would be over with before it could touch their small family. 

James was shocked when he felt the wards crumble. _What!? How could they have... Peter! That traitorous little rat!_ "Lilly! Get Harry out of here!"

* * *

But we all know that wasn't to be. Voldemort had chosen his informant wisely, played on the stupid runt's insecurities like a favored instrument, and the result was his entry into one of the most secure homes in all of Great Britain. The Queen herself was hardly more protected than the Potters. 

James died first, Lilly screaming out his name as she heard the killing curse. And then the monster came for her as well, telling her to give him the child. And she died to protect him, pushing her love for the boy into him at the last moment to help him in any way she could. 

And it worked. But it didn't work perfectly. Voldemort's aim was just a tad off from where he had intended to aim his wand. The curse still ricocheted, destroying Voldemort (or so we all thought) but where all it might have done was leave the scar, it also left the infant sightless.

* * *

"Poppy, are you sure there isn't anything you can do?" 

"I'm sorry, Albus. The corneas are completely polarized, the retinas incapacitated and the optic nerves disintegrated. We're lucky there was no brain damage. Hell, we're lucky he survived at all." 

Albus Dumbledore looked down at the sleeping child, his thoughts tormented by the knowledge that this war had taken the boy's sight. How was the boy to become the savior of the wizarding world when he was blind? And more immediately, who could not only be trusted to protect him, but could also deal with his special needs at the same time?

* * *

"Absolutely not! I will not be saddled with the blind child of my freak sister and her freak husband! Take him to the orphanage! Immediately!" 

"All right, Petunia. I'll take care of it for you. You just get Dudley settled for the night and I'll deal with this little problem." 

Vernon took no chances. He drove all the way to London and dropped him on the doorstep of an orphanage there. Then he drove away with a clear conscience, knowing that the boy would be better off there than under the "tender mercies" of his wife, whose hatred of all things magical would surely have harmed the boy eventually. 

He'd removed the note which had been left by Dumbledore and left his own. _"Harry Potter. Born July 31, 1980. Parents killed in a car crash. Only survivor. No other family."_

* * *

_And there's the first chapter. Hope you've enjoyed it so far. It's a bit patchy, but that's because I want plenty of room to play later in the game. Review please! _


	2. The Orphanage

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: I'm using the most basic concepts from Dare Devil, but it's not enough to call this a crossover. 

I've directly quoted the standard Hogwarts letter from the first book. I'll be doing this fairly often throughout the story, so here's your fair warning. The story is going to be fairly light on the visual descriptions. Harry "sees" more than a lot of blind people do, but he's still blind, so don't expect a lot of colorful descriptions on his part (except of Snape, and we all know just "how" colorful ). 

This story is being highly influenced by Saerry Snape's story, "Not Myself", which I highly recommend to everyone. It's a wonderful story that, like this one, rewrites the entire series. I can only hope that my work even comes close to what she's capable of. 

For some reason, our internet access here at home isn't working, so that's why I haven't posted for a while. But I've kept working the whole time, so expect plenty of catch up! 

Enjoy!

* * *

**As A Bat**

The Orphanage

Ten-year-old Harry Potter knelt on the ground in the gardens, taking great care where he placed the seeds he was drawing from a pouch at his waist. The day was hot, which suited Harry just fine. It was the cold he hated most, as it went through his thin frame straight to his bones. Heat he could handle. 

The soil beneath his fingertips was moist and loose. The groundskeeper had already plowed the ground, but he had allowed Harry to do the planting, knowing that, as long as he didn't move anything, the blind child would be able to find all of the seeds and put them in their correct beds. The vegetable garden was a great help to keep the failing orphanage out of the red zone with its finances, helping to keep the children within its walls fed. Few of the young people ever enjoyed the garden, though. Harry was the exception, and the groundskeeper had cultivated his enjoyment. Planting seeds and watering the garden was one thing a blind boy of nearly eleven years age could do with no problems. 

Life in the orphanage had been as good to Harry as it was to any other orphan. He was thinner than perhaps was healthy, but so were they all. There were the bullies and such among the children, but Harry was never taken by them. His reflexes were too good. So he didn't have too many scars that he shouldn't. 

Harry Potter was different, and not just because of his blindness or the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. He could never remember a time when he could see, though he probably could have when he was a baby. His other senses had magnified themselves to compensate. He had terrific balance because he had learned to listen to what his ears were telling him, to sort out the pictures that they sent, pictures made of sound bouncing off of his environment. He could also make things happen. 

It usually only happened when he was angry or frightened. Things would move in the room, sometimes just floating around, but other times flying through the air, all depending on just how angry or scared he was. No one knew why, but no one questioned it. They just learned not to get him mad. Besides, he was well able to defend himself. Blind didn't mean helpless, not by a long shot. He could hear how a person was moving, and he knew his own body well enough to almost visualize the fight as it was happening. It all worked even better if it was raining. Each rain drop made a sound as it hit a surface, and he could almost see during those times. Harry loved it when it rained. 

As Harry went to put yet another corn seed into the ground, he touched something he hadn't expected. A slithery snake's tongue ghosted across the fingers of his hand. Harry said, "Hello, there. I didn't hear you, Richard. You doing well in the garden this year?" 

Richard was a little garden snake that Harry had befriended three years ago. The snake was getting a bit old for his species, but he would probably last another couple of years. "I'm doing just fine, thanks. Learning to sneak up on you has probably been my saving grace. You know Simpson hates me! But he can't see what you can't hear. Watch yourself, though. One of this year's younglings has heard about you and plans to try and sneak up on you." 

Harry grinned at the exasperated tone. "Snakes aren't usually stupid." 

"No, just younglings." 

"Hey!" 

Harry heard the young snake approaching, but both he and Richard said nothing. They continued on with their conversation, and when the little thing went to bite the human he got the surprise of his life. Harry moved his hand out of the way with a speed to match his reptilian companions and snatched him behind the head. He picked the little beast up and hissed, "You'd better think about it a little more next time. Leave bravery to the mammals. Snakes should be cunning, not foolhardy." 

There was a grin in Richard's voice as he replied. "That's right, we leave all the foolishness to you, my boy. Now Bernard, I expect you to have a little more sense next time! Just because Harry likes us and won't hurt us doesn't mean you have the right to try and bite him! And the gardener will take his hoe after you!" 

Harry sat Bernard down on the ground. He hissed with a pout in his voice. "Sorry." 

Harry grinned. "Just don't let it happen again. And Richard's right. Jack will get after you with the hoe. He's not exactly fond of snakes since a viper killed his brother when they were kids." 

Harry finished his planting, listening to Richard gossip about his family and the other snakes in the area. The animal was always good for a laugh, and he helped wile away the time. Planting finished, he bid the animal farewell and went to put away his gardening things. Jack didn't mind him coming out to the garden. In fact, he rather liked the boy's obvious enjoyment of the garden and had cultivated his interest. 

Harry went inside and took a shower before anyone else was around to steal the hot water, then went to the kitchen to help with dinner. There was only one cook for the orphanage, and he was grateful for any help he could get. Harry always set the tables while the finishing bits of dinner were completed, and with over a hundred kids in the orphanage, the cook was only glad that he could get it done with speed. 

Dinner was usually a raucous affair, with at least one minor food fight a week and one major one each season. It was hell to clean up after, but Harry didn't mind as it kept attitudes light around the table. Of course, everyone was at dinner, so he also had to deal with certain people that he would rather have avoided. Charles Smutherman and his little gang of bullies were the bane of the orphanage, always pushing the younger kids around and stealing from them. Still, they knew better than to mess with Harry or any of the children under his protection. Usually they avoided him and his group of youngsters. 

Unfortunately, today was not to be such a day. Charlie was bored, and bored and stupid were a bad combination where he was concerned. It meant he was looking for a fight, and he didn't particularly care who with. He walked over to where Harry was sitting and started in on him. "Hey bat-boy!" 

Harry sighed in long sufferance. "What do you want, Charlie?" 

"Your shades!" He moved to snatch them off the blind youth's head, forgetting Harry's other unusual attributes. Harry grabbed the approaching hand by the wrist and thumb, twisting it around almost to the breaking point before standing up. 

A twelve-year-old on the other side of the table named Abel Johnson grinned at the sight. "You should know better by now, Charlie. No one messes with Potter what don't end up regrettin' it!" 

Harry shoved the fifteen-year-old away, making him land on his rump. "Grow a brain, Smutherman!" 

Mr. Todders, the orphanage proprietor, came into the dining room just then. "What's going on here!?" Todders was a tall, rather portly man with a deep booming voice, which came in handy when dealing with a room full of kids. 

Abel spoke first. "Smutherman came after Potter again." 

Todders looked over the boy on the ground. There was no real damage, just his pride. "How many times have you been warned, Charlie? I think you're done with dinner if you can start accosting the other kids. Get yourself to your dorm. Now!" 

Harry made sure not to grin, knowing that would only make the fool vengeful. But once he heard the door slam, he allowed the expression to cross his face. He finished his dinner quietly, not talking to anyone while he ate, which was what everyone expected. 

When he got back to the younger boys' dorm, he flopped down on his bed. Tomorrow was the day they were bringing in all the new kids from the court. Harry would have to make sure that any of the ones over the age of five knew the ropes around the dorm, that they knew where they could and couldn't go, what their chores would be, and who to avoid in the orphanage. He was the strongest boy in the younger dorms, and he took it upon himself to make sure that the new kids were as comfortable as possible in a very uncomfortable place in their lives. 

Harry had grown up in the orphanage. It was the only home he had ever known, so it didn't seem strange to him. But he knew that this wasn't the case for most kids. Most kids had loving homes, with at least one parent who loved them more than anything. Harry had never had that in his memory. Oh he sometimes remembered a soft, feminine voice, one full of love and laughter, but half the time he couldn't be sure he wasn't making it up. After all, he'd once dreamed of a flying motorcycle, too. He didn't even have a name for his parents. He'd been abandoned on the doorstep of the orphanage on the first night of November, totally blind and screaming with hunger, with a note that said his parents died in a car crash. He had nothing, and his only constant friends were the snakes in the garden. Sometimes, it was all Harry could do not to cry himself to sleep. But that was life.

* * *

Harry was very surprised when, three mornings later a large bird landed in the garden and hopped over to him. He couldn't tell what kind of bird it was, but it had very soft feathers. Then it hooted at him, proving to be an owl. "Hello. What can I do for you?" The bird hooted again, then shifted its weight to one foot, sticking the other out toward Harry. He felt down the leg until he found something that was tied to it, some kind of paper. "That what you want, this thing off your leg? I should be able to do that." Harry felt around the knot of string that was holding the paper on, wondering how it had gotten there. 

Once it was off, he expected the bird to fly away, but it just sat there. So Harry called out, "Jack!" 

Jack, the gardener came over. "What you got there, Harry?" 

"Not sure. But it was tied to this bird's leg and now he won't leave." He handed it up to the man. "What is it?" 

Jack started. "Why, it's a letter! And it's addressed to you! 'Mr. Harry Potter, The garden in the back, Mung Street Orphanage, London.' Do you want me to open and read it for you?" 

"Someone's written ME a letter? 'Course I want you to read it!" 

So Jack broke the old fashioned wax seal that was holding the letter closed and then unfolded the top sheet. It was parchment, and written in a surprising emerald ink. "Well, here goes." He cleared his throat and then began to read. 

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY**

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chief Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. Potter, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. 

Yours sincerely, 

Minerva McGonagall,  
_Deputy Headmistress_

Jack said, "Well, that's weird." 

"Yeah. How did they know where I was, for one?" 

"Don't know, kid. You plannin' to answer? I don't know as Todders will let you go." 

"Yeah. I think I'll answer it anyway. I'll ask them to send some more information. This is going to be strange." He turned to the owl. "You hold on just a moment and I'll go get some writing materials." Harry didn't see it, of course, but the owl nodded in response. Jack just stared in amazement. _That kid sure has a way with animals._

Harry was back just a few moments later with a pad and pen. He handed them to Jack. "You mind writing this down for me?" 

"Sure kid." 

Just a few minutes later, and they had tied Harry's response to the owl's leg and it was on its way to Hogwarts School or Witchcraft and Wizardry. Wherever that might be.

* * *

Professor McGonagall sorted through the day's mail, knowing that several of the letters in the pile would be responses to First Year acceptance letters. One in particular caught her attention, as it was written on yellow notebook paper. Muggleborn, then. She began to read, and got the shock of her life. She quickly went to the floo and grabbed a handful of powder. "Albus Dumbledore's office!" Then she threw the powder and disappeared in a flash of green flame. 

She stepped into Dumbledore's office, still clutching the response letter. "Albus! You will never believe who just sent me a response letter. Harry Potter!" 

Dumbledore's eyebrows flew into his hairline. "What?!" 

McGonagall held up the letter. "It's him, Albus! How could it be him? The house was burned to the ground! There were no survivors!" 

"Please let me read the letter, Minerva." So she handed the yellow paper over to him, then sat down, wringing her hands. How could they have made a mistake like this? 

The letter read: 

**To whom it may concern, **

I thank you for your acceptance, but I'm afraid I need more information. I have lived at this orphanage since before I can remember, and in that time, there has never been any indication that a single soul outside of it knew that I existed. Therefore, I would ask that you tell me first, how you got my name, and second, what you may know about me. In regards to attending your school, I would love nothing more, but you must understand that I am an orphan. I own nothing but my cane, my type writers and my shades. I could hardly afford to attend what is probably a very prestigious school, or to buy my school supplies. I am sure that you understand my concerns. If you have any way around them, I would love to attend. Please notify me of your decision at your earliest convenience. I am blind, so please send your response in two copies, one English and one Braille. 

Thank you. Sincerely,

Harry Potter 

"How could this have happened, Albus? How could we have missed Harry Potter surviving?" The woman was frantic. This was horrible! Their blunder had made it so that the boy had spent the last ten years in an orphanage! 

"I don't know, Minerva, but please calm yourself. I will go myself to question Mr. Potter. I'll take the key to his personal vault with me. Since the vaults are keyed to magical signatures rather than physical ones, the declaration of his death will not have affected it, nor his family vaults. He still won't be able to access those funds until he turns seventeen, but he will at least know that they are there. I will tell him what I can. This changes everything, Minerva. I trust you know that." 

McGonagall nodded sadly, sighing. "Yes, I do. You're not going to tell him _everything_, are you?" 

"Of course not. He's only ten years old. I will not burden a child with all of that." He shook his head. No, that wouldn't be right at all. Better that he be allowed to have what proper childhood they could give him here at Hogwarts. So much had already been stolen from him. Dumbledore would not add to the tally if at all possible. "I'll write his response myself, and I'll arrange a meeting with him and his guardian as soon as possible."

* * *

This time, the owl flew into the dining room through an open window, and it did so during breakfast on the morning of July 24th. Squeals sounded throughout the hall as the bird flew down the table to where Harry was sitting, no one being used to huge birds flying around their heads. It dropped it's burden directly in front of him, missing his porridge by inches. The only reason Harry had a clue what was going on was that he heard the owl hooting as it flew back out the window. Harry fumbled with the letter, finally getting it turned around to where the address could be read. He was startled by the fact that it was also written in Braille. He ran his hands over the tiny dots of wax that were splotched in an orderly fashion across the parchment. **Mr. Harry Potter, The dining room table, Mung Street Orphanage, London**

Harry grinned and flipped the parchment envelope over to break the wax seal. He pulled the letter out and made sure that he had the Braille copy on top, which he began to read immediately. 

**Dear Mr. Potter, **

I am aware that we have a great deal to explain to you, as well as questions that only you may have the answers to. However, these are things that I thinks should be best spoken of in person. Therefore, I will be coming to visit you in person in one week's time. Please rest assured that no matter the state of your personal finance, I personally want you to attend our school to learn your craft. You need not fear on that account. You will have everything you need, though for reasons I will explain to you at length later on, I doubt it will be a problem. 

As you requested, an English copy of this letter has been included for your guardian. I shall arrive at precisely ten on the morning of the thirty-first. 

Sincerely, 

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

Harry's smile didn't dissipate at all. He grabbed his cane and headed for where Todders was sitting with his breakfast. "Mr. Todders. Half of this letter is for you." 

"Half? Letter?" 

"Yes, from the Headmaster of the school I was telling you about. I showed you the letter, remember?" 

"Oh, yes. Why half?" 

"Because it's written in Braille." 

"Very well, let me see." Harry handed him the page of the letter that was smooth. Todders read over the letter quickly. "Then we can be expecting company? I guess we should get this place cleaned up. What a coincidence. He's coming on your birthday!" 

Counting his days, Harry realized that Todders was right. "So he will." For the first time in his life, Harry was looking forward to that day. Perhaps he was finally going to get some of the answers he had always instinctively craved about who he was. It was going to be the best birthday ever!

* * *

The entire week was spent cleaning, as the one thing Todders detested over everything else was that the place appear shabby in front of visitors. It was a major reason that Harry had made sure that the guardian of the orphanage would know about the impending visit. It forced everyone to do the chores they had been assigned, such as laundry. Todders was usually far too lenient about such matters, being very lazy about the care of the children, but he had no intention of loosing his plush job because he was unable to maintain discipline and get the kids to take care of the mundane chores. He was supposed to have hired several new employees to help with the facility, but he was pocketing their salaries, maintaining only Jack and the cook. He had to make sure it looked like five men worked there rather than two, so every kid in the place was put to cleaning and scrubbing. Several of the older ones knew that it was because of Harry's visitor, but most didn't care. Only Smutherman tried to make an issue of it, but Harry put him on his rump again. 

The reason Harry was glad of it was that, for once, all his clothes were clean, as were his bed linens and the rugs out in the hallway. He'd always made sure that the dishes and the dining room were clean, along with the cook, because neither of them could stand the though of germs mixing with the food, but they could only do so much. The bathrooms were spotless for the first time in his life, and he couldn't help but go around with a huge grin on his face. 

Of course, things were not destined to go so smoothly. At about six thirty on the morning of the thirty-first, Harry was rudely awakened by Smutherman trying to sneak into the younger kids' dorm. Harry lay still, listening to see what the older boy was after. The oaf made his way to one of the six-year-olds' beds, little Rudy Henderson. There was a squeak, the muffled cry of a frightened child. Harry didn't need to hear anything else. He sat up stealthily and grasped his cane where it leaned up against the wall in its customary place, then got off the bed, avoiding the creaky place in the mattress. Harry knew where every creak in the floorboards. He knew where every object that littered the floor was because he'd heard them when they fell. Even socks and other items of clothing. There was nothing to trip him up as he made his way to the big oaf who was busily threatening Rudy to get him to do his chores the next day. 

Harry tapped his cane on Smutherman's shoulder. "Leave him alone, Charlie." The fifteen-year-old turned around quickly. Harry hadn't bothered to put his shades on, and he found himself looking into eyes like a nightmare. When he was an infant they had been a normal-but-brilliant emerald green. Now they were a dead looking gray, and it wasn't just the irises, but the entire cornea and lens. The eyes saw nothing. But they could still move. And with Harry's living senses focused on Smutherman, they seemed to stare straight into his soul. 

Charlie Smutherman had only ever looked Harry Potter in the eyes once before. It gave him the willies then and it did now. It was more than enough to get him to leave. As he left, Harry pulled the shades out of his pocket where he'd put them on getting out of the bed and put them on so he wouldn't frighten the younger boy. 

Rudy had seen, however. "What happened?" 

Knowing that the child spoke of his blindness and the lightning bolt scar on the bridge of his nose, he said, "I'm not really sure. The man who's coming today might have that answer. But I've been blind for as long as I can remember." 

Rudy was silent for a moment. "You're leaving, aren't you." 

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes. If I can wrangle it." He stopped, thinking about all the kids who would be unprotected from the bullies when he was gone. _There's got to be something I can do._ "Do you have a toy that you favor?" 

The little boy took Harry's hand and placed his stuffed bear into it. Harry concentrated on the bear, petting the fur of the beloved toy. _Protect him from harm. Use fear, never pain. Never let yourself be seen by anyone over the age of seventeen. Protect him and the other small ones from the bullies until we meet again and I can take over the task._ Responding to Harry's innate magic, the bear briefly changed its appearance to that of a living adult animal. The beast nuzzled the young boy, then touched its snout to Harry's hand and reverted back to its stuffed self. "He'll protect you 'till I can again." 

"Wow!" Rudy jumped up and hugged Harry. "Thank you so much!" Harry smiled. He was tired now, having put a lot of energy into the bear, but it would be worth it if the toy could do the job. 

Three hours later, precisely on the stroke of ten, the chime on the orphanage's front door rang out. Todders was ready and opened it to reveal an elderly gentleman wearing a dusky purple business suit with a grayish blue bowler and shiny white shoes. His hair and beard were long and white, both flowing down to peter out at about waist level. He had kind, blue eyes with a twinkle of mischief in them that seemed to light the front hall way more brightly than the pitiful light bulb that hung there. "I'm here to speak with Mr. Harry Potter, if you please?" 

Todders shook himself out of staring at the man's strange appearance and nodded. "Yes, of course. You'll be Albus Dumbledore, then?" The old man nodded. "I'm Barry Todders, the guardian of this facility. Harry is waiting for you in the dining room. All the other children are doing their morning chores, so you've picked the perfect time to come. You can be alone with Harry." 

Harry was seated in the dining room with the few things that belonged to him. He truly hoped that Dumbledore intended to take him away from the orphanage, and in that hope he had packed everything. He had three sets of clothes, his Braille writer, his type writer and his cane. The shades were, of course, perched on his nose. It was all he had in the world. He heard approaching footsteps; two men, one of which was Todders, whose shoes squeaked. The other one was definitely wearing good leather shoes. There was a swishing of tweed fabric, but the tap of a cane or umbrella was missing. Barely discernable was the whisper of long hair, though Harry couldn't tell just how long. And there was something else, as well. A sense of strength, of power, radiated from him. It was a feeling that Harry recognized from himself, but it was so much stronger than that! Harry guessed that this must be what magic felt like. 

Harry stood and held out his hand, knowing that his aim would be off this first time as he didn't know the man's height yet. Todders said, "Here he is. Harry, this is Albus Dumbledore. Mr. Dumbledore, this is Harry Potter." 

The man finally spoke, his voice rolling around like water over gravel. "Hello, Mr. Potter. It is good to see you. Thank you for introducing us, Mr. Todders. Harry would you prefer that your guardian remain for our conversation or would you like some privacy?" There was mischief in the voice, and Todders sputtered a bit. 

Harry grinned. "Privacy, if you wouldn't mind." Todders huffed off. Once he was out of earshot, Harry said, "It's times like these I really wish I could see. The look on his face was likely priceless!" 

Dumbledore chuckled. "Right you are, Harry. Now, I imagine you have a great many questions. But first I must ask you what you already know. How did you come to be in this facility?" 

"The night of November 1, 1981, I was found on the doorstep here. There was only a note, stating my name and birthday and that my parents had died in a car crash and I had no other living relatives." 

The man frowned as he spoke. "I see. Well allow me to set the record straight. Your parents were murdered, Harry, by a man called Voldemort, on Halloween night, 1981. This man was a dark wizard, and he was waging a war against the rest of the wizarding world. He killed anyone who refused to join him, and your parents refused three times. He tried to kill you, as well, but for some reason, his spell didn't kill you. Instead it blinded you and was then reflected back at him. No one is sure why it didn't work right. But it put an end to a twenty-year-long war, at the horrible cost of your sight. You were sent to live with your uncle and aunt, Vernon and Petunia Dursley. From there we don't know what really happened. But I suppose it's good that you were brought here. Only one year later, their house was destroyed in a gas main explosion. They and their son were all killed in the fire, and it was thought that you were as well. That's why no one has been around, Harry. We all thought you were dead." 

Harry was reeling. His parents had been wizards! And they had been murdered by another wizard! They hadn't died in a car crash at all. And he had been blinded by the same man. Anger welled up in him. Dumbledore's voice cut through it. "Harry, control, please." It was then that he realized that things were starting to fly around the room. 

Abashed, Harry took control of his power and lowered the things gently to the table where they had come off of. "Sorry." 

There was a smile in Dumbledore's voice. "That's quite all right, Harry. We'll be able to teach you much better control of that so it doesn't get away from you." 

"So how did I get that letter if everyone thought I was dead?" 

"Well that's actually quite simple, Harry. The school itself sends out those letters to any individual it deems worthy and is of the correct age. Minerva signs them, but with so many of them going out she rarely looks at the names that are on them. Your response was what tipped us off." 

"The school is alive!?" 

"Very nearly. It's over a thousand years old, and over the centuries it's been so saturated with magic that it has developed an awareness of itself and its surroundings." Dumbledore sighed. "Now, since you have no living relatives, I have decided to have you made a ward of the school. That way you will never have to worry about a place to live or about returning to this place. You'll live on the grounds with the gamekeeper, Mr. Rubeus Hagrid. But there's a lot of paperwork to be gone through before that time. Hagrid will take you today to Diagon Alley to get your school supplies, and then you'll come back here until September 1. Hagrid will have your tickets to the Hogwarts Express. It's a train at King's Cross Station. It will take you to Hogwarts." The Headmaster cleared his throat. "I'll just get the ball rolling on your adoption with Mr. Todders. Hagrid is waiting outside. Don't worry about these things here. I'll have them put back where you sleep. Just remember to take them with you when you leave in September." 

"Thank you, Headmaster!" On impulse, Harry reached up to touch Dumbledore's face, wanting a clear picture to put with the voice. The old man smiled, holding still for the minute examination. The boy's hand swept from brow to chin, and then up the left side, including the ear, and down the right. It took about five minutes for him to trace every little crease and wrinkle. "Thank you. Not many people let me do that." 

"My pleasure, Harry. My pleasure."

* * *


	3. Diagon Alley

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: Be ye warned. Paraphrases here! And direct quotes, too! Movie and book intermingled. It's going to be like this for a while, 'till I can get to a point where something happens to separate the two stories more drastically. I have a plan, I promise! 

**What, blinding him wasn't enough for you?**

Shut it, you! You know very well that I have many things in store for our poor Harry. (evil cackling sound) 

**Evil woman!**

I know. >:D Enjoy!

* * *

**As A Bat**

Diagon Alley

Harry stepped outside, listening for the person he was supposed to be going with to get his school supplies, this Mr. Hagrid. He heard breathing just off to the side of the porch, so he said, "Mr. Hagrid?" 

The man turned around, sounding like a minor earthquake. He must be huge! A great, cheerful voice called out, "Blimey! I didn't see you standin' there, Harry! Crikey, but you look like yer dad. An' it's just Hagrid, lad. That's what everyone calls me. 'Course, the last time I saw you, you was a baby. Cute as a button, scar or no scar!" The voice was coming from eight feet up! 

Harry smirked. "Not like I'd know it. You knew my parents?" 

Hagrid smiled. "O' course! I was already the gamekeeper by the time yer folks were in school at Hogwarts! Mind they didn't see me much. But I was always there t' greet everyone off the train and t' say farewell as they got back on it." He put a huge hand on Harry's shoulder. It was so large that it nearly covered the entire shoulder. Harry grinned. "So, shall we be off?" 

"The Headmaster said something about Diagon Alley." 

"'O course! That's the only place to get all those school supplies." 

Thinking about buying things brought Harry up short. "Um- Hagrid? How am I going to buy my supplies? I haven't got any money." 

"You've got money, Harry. It's been in your vault in Gringott's this whole time. That's the wizard bank." 

"But wouldn't the vault have been seized once my parents and I were declared dead? That's what they do in other banks any way." 

"Nah. The Gringott's vaults are magiked so that they can't be seized until the vault _knows_ yer dead. But the funny thing is, even if the goblins who run the place know that someone isn't dead they won't say a blessed thing to anyone about it. Misers, they are. But the trade off's in security. Bloke'd have to be mad ter try an' rob it. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringott's is the safest place in the world fer summat ye want kept safe - 'cept Hogwarts, o' course. An' I gotta get summat outta one o' the vaults fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." He paused, then said, "Well, shall we be going, then?" 

Harry moved over to the left side of the big man and grasped the coat he was wearing. It seemed to be made of some kind of leather. He put his cane out in front so he wouldn't run into anything, then said, "Lead the way." 

Hagrid led them down the street to the underground, talking the whole way about everything from the wizarding equivalent of football, called Quidditch to the exact reason someone would have to be mad to rob Gringott's. When he spoke of the dragons that guarded the high security vaults, he became wistful. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon!" 

Harry quirked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. When they reached the station, Harry helped Hagrid count out the money to pay for the tickets, and then they got on the train. They sat in their seats, and Hagrid pulled what sounded like a newspaper out of his pocket. Harry figured he was reading, so he sat back in the seat, just absorbing the sounds around him and trying to sort out the thoughts in his head. 

From what Dumbledore and Hagrid had said, there was an entirely separate world for wizards that Muggles, or non-magic folk, never knew of. They were kept ignorant of magic out of fear. Harry could see the point, having been quite a student of history when he could get his hands on Braille texts. Incidents like the Spanish Inquisition only supported the isolationist sentiments. Muggles were afraid of what they didn't understand, and they tended to want to destroy what they feared. But now he was to be a part of this world. And these wizards would all know his name. They would know who he was on sight because of the scar on his nose. He didn't know if he liked the idea of having that kind of attention. 

And he had so much to learn! He was afraid that he wouldn't be worth anything in classes because he hadn't even the slightest bit of experience. 

Hagrid interrupted his thoughts. "Ministry o' Magic's messin' things up as usual." 

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" 

"'Course. They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every mornin' askin' fer advice." 

"But what does the Ministry of Magic _do_?" 

"Well their main job is ter keep the wizarding world a secret. Like I already told ye, it wouldn't be no good if they knew there was still witches and wizards runnin' up and down the country. Why, everybody'd be lookin' fer magical solutions to their problems!" They were silent for a while, then Hagrid said, "Still got yer letter, Harry?" 

"The first one?" 

"Yeah. There's a list of everything you'll need." 

"Oh, yeah. I had Jack, the gardener, read it to me back at the orphanage. I made a copy of it with my Braille writer so I could read it." He took it out of his pocket. "Can we buy all this in Diagon Alley?" 

"'Course!" 

They reached the stop Hagrid wanted and got the both of them off the train. They left the station, Hagrid having a bit of trouble at one point, getting stuck in the ticket barrier, complaining the whole time. He said, "I don't know how Muggles manage, I really don't," as they climbed the broken down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops. Harry wondered where in London Diagon Alley was. How could such a place exist and people not know about it? 

They walked quickly along the busy street, Harry keeping his ears open for trouble. One didn't grow up in the kind of place that Mung Street was and not learn to be careful. Finally they stopped. "Here we are! The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous pub for wizards. Muggles can't even see it." 

Once inside, Harry took in the odors of food, liquor and smoke, both from pipes and from the fireplace. A voice rose from somewhere off to the left. "The usual, Hagrid?" 

"Can't, Tom. I'm on official Hogwarts business. Just takin' this lad to buy his school supplies." 

Suddenly, you could have heard a pin drop. Harry felt eyes on him from every direction. Tom whispered, "Is that--is that Harry Potter?" 

"Sure is." 

Several people were moving forward, Harry guessed to gawk. Someone grabbed his hand to shake it. "A great honor to meet you, Mr. Potter!" Chairs were scraping all over the pub, and more and more people were shoving forward to touch him. He was overloading and he started to panic. He knew there were things starting to come off of the tables, but no one had noticed yet. More people grabbed his hands, and he was being jostled from every side. He grew more and more panicked, until finally he froze and things started flying around people's heads. 

Hagrid shouted, "Harry! Everyone back off! Harry, calm down. Yer all right, lad." 

Harry struggled for control, slowing everything down and taking deep breaths. Finally he was calm enough that he had complete control over the objects in the air and slowly set each one on a flat surface, not necessarily the one it had come from, but where it wasn't going to fall off and make a mess. When the last salt shaker was no longer floating, he sagged. Tom was ready with a chair, and Harry sat down, trying to catch his breath. Tom's voice was shaky. "You can do quite a bit, can't you, lad. And without a wand, as well!" 

"Sorry. It was just too many people at once. I couldn't sort it all out and I panicked." 

Tom smiled. "That's quite all right. We shouldn't have mobbed you like that. It's just, we're very pleasantly surprised to see you, Mr. Potter. And you didn't break anything, which most children who've yet to go to Hogwarts would have in your situation. I'll bet you're going to do splendidly!" 

Someone else was there as well, someone with a very quavery voice. "He's r-r-right, you know. You should do v-v-very well." 

Hagrid said, "Oh, hello there, Professor Quirrell. I didn't see you there. Harry, this is Professor Quirrell. He'll be one of your teachers at Hogwarts." 

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" 

"D-D-Deffense Against the D-Dark Arts." He said it as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-Not that you'd need it, eh, P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. Harry didn't know why, but he got as funny feeling about the man. He dismissed it as holdover from his earlier panic. 

Hagrid decided it was time and past it to get Harry out of the pub. "Well, come on, Harry. We've got lot's ter buy." 

Tom shook Harry's hand one more time, and then they left the pub through a rear door. Hagrid smiled. "Sorry 'bout that, Harry. Most people reckon you've saved their lives by destroyin' You-Know-Who, and yer very famous. Don' worry. It shouldn't be nearly as bad in the Alley. A few people might notice, but everyone'll be runnin' around shoppin' so it'll be less likely." Hagrid did something that required counting and tapping to the wall in front of him, and then there was the gritty hollow sound of brick shifting and a sudden warm breeze blew in from somewhere. Harry moved his cane forward. The wall was gone! "Welcome to Diagon Alley!" 

As they walked along the cobblestone street, Harry was surrounded by new smells and sounds. It made him really wish he had his sight. He imagined the street was probably a riot of color. The only color he knew was green, and that was only on nights when his oldest nightmare came out of the dark at him. 

They passed the mouthwatering scents of food vendors, the clanging racket from the inside of what Hagrid identified as a cauldron shop, the excited clamor of children hanging around a display of the Nimbus 2000 Quidditch broom, and the combined stench and noise of a pet shop. There was so much more as the walked down the street, but Harry didn't have the chances of a snowstorm in summer to identify all of them. 

Finally they reached their first destination, Gringott's Bank. They walked through one set of doors and then another, stepping onto a marble floor. The sound in the hall bounced around, so he figured it was a very large place. He could hear whisper-quiet voices and softly tapping shoes, along with other, less identifiable sounds, dull thuds that Hagrid told him was the tellers using some kind of stamp. Throughout was the gentle tinkling of coins. 

Hagrid found himself a goblin and said, "Mornin'. We need to take some money out of Mr. Harry Potter's vault." 

"Do you have his key?" 

Hagrid started rummaging through his pockets. "Got it here somewhere." Harry swore he heard some kind of squeaking in Hagrid's pockets, and listening more closely, he thought it was a couple of mice. He shook his head. The man seemed to have a thing for animals, no matter the size or type. Finally he found the key he was looking for. "There it is." 

He passed it to the goblin. After a short time, the creature said, "This seems to be in order." 

"Professor Dumbledore also told me to give you this." There was the slight sound of paper against Hagrid's coat. "It's about You-Know-What in vault 713." 

Harry heard the goblin open the paper and the slight rustling while he read it. Then he said, "Very well. I'll have someone take you to both vaults. Griphook!" 

Soon they were in a cart that was moving at break-neck speeds. Harry felt a bit queasy at the speed and the twisty turns, though Hagrid thought he might actually be sick. Suddenly the thing stopped. "Vault six-hundred and forty seven." 

Griphook unlocked the door while Hagrid caught his breath. Harry carefully entered the vault, running his hands over what seemed to be an awful lot of money. There were coins in piles taller than he was! "Griphook, can you explain the money to me, and identify the different coins so I can tell which is which by feel?" 

"Sorry sir, no. Goblins may not touch a human's money. It prevents the appearance of impropriety." 

"I'll do that, Harry." Hagrid snagged three coins and then put one into Harry's hand. "This one's a Galleon. It's made of gold, and it's the biggest of the coins." 

Harry weighed the thing in his hand and ran his thumb over the surface. There was a large cross-shaped relief in the center of one side and a face on the other. He said, "All right," and handed the coin back to Hagrid. 

The big man handed him another coin. This one was smaller. It had the same two designs on it's sides, but it also had ridges along the edge. "This one's a Sickle. It's silver and the middle-sized one." 

Then they switched coins again. The last one was much smaller than the other two. It also had the same two designs on it and the ridges along the edge. "And this one's a Knut. It's bronze and the smallest coin. The rate is twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon." 

"And how does that convert to pounds?" 

Griphook answered that one. "The current exchange rate is about five and a half pounds to a Galleon. That rate shifts fairly often, but by very small increments." 

"Thank you." Harry shook his head. All those years in an orphanage without a penny to his name, and he'd had all this locked away under the streets of London the whole time. 

They filled a bag that Hagrid said was likely to last him a couple of terms and then left the vault for the cart. They soon stopped at another vault. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen." 

Harry waited while Hagrid took whatever was in the vault and left. The big man said, "Best not to mention this to anyone, Harry. It's Hogwarts business, very secret." 

Harry nodded. "Of course." 

One more cart ride, and they were standing outside in the warm sunlight. Hagrid dropped Harry off at Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "I'm goin' ter slip over to the Leaky Cauldron for a pick-me-up. Those carts are awful! You'll be all right here fer a bit?" 

Harry grinned. "I'm fine. You go on." Then Harry went inside the shop. 

The tailory was small and carpeted, so sound didn't bounce around it very well, but it wasn't muffled either. A friendly feminine voice came from the side. "Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted just now, in fact. Now, you come this way and I'll get you started. Easy, dear, there's a step." The witch led Harry to the back room where she had him stand on a stool, then threw a robe over his head and started pinning it up to fit him. 

The other boy in the shop said, "Hello. Hogwarts too?" 

"Yes." 

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands." He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I can't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." The boy paused. "Don't suppose you'll be allowed on a broom, will you? If you can't see, it'd be hard to fly." 

Harry smirked. "You're probably right. They put me on a broom and I'll promptly fly into a wall. It sounds like fun, though, flying." 

"Oh, it is! Father says it'll be a crime if I'm not picked to be on the house Quidditch team, and I must say I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?" 

Harry shook his head. "No." 

"Well no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all my family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff! I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" 

"I wouldn't know. I wasn't raised around wizards, so I don't know much at all." 

"But your parents, they were _our_ kind, weren't they?" 

Smelling bigotry in the air like last week's garbage, Harry smirked and spoke with the same coolness he used on the bullies at Mung Street. "Well, if you can't tell for yourself, that ought to tell you something, shouldn't it. What would it matter? The school accepts those it wants to come, and no one else has any say in the matter." 

Harry could just feel the sneer in the other boy's voice. "I notice you didn't answer. You're probably a mudblood, just like half the kids at that school." 

Harry would have popped off, but Madame Malkin shouted. "That's enough! I'll have no use of obscenities in my shop." She pulled the finished robe over the top of the boy's head. "You're done, Mr. Malfoy. And next time you're in here, I'll thank you to remember that I run a polite establishment, no matter what political viewpoint you hold. Am I clear?" 

Malfoy snorted disdainfully. "Crystal." He strode toward the front door. "See you at Hogwarts. Too bad you won't see me." 

Later, after the pinning was done, Hagrid came back with icecreams and they sat on one of the benches that were spaced evenly along the road. Harry quietly asked, "What kind of insult is it when someone calls you a mudblood?" Harry had a fair idea, but it seemed the best way to begin the conversation. 

"Blimey, Harry! Where'd you hear that?" 

"A boy in the shop. Madame Malkin called him Mr. Malfoy and told him off for using obscenities." 

"Well, it's not true of you, even the way he meant it. The polite term's Muggleborn. Yer ma would have fit the description. There's a lot from the older wizarding families that've got it in their heads that pure wizard blood makes ye better than someone who's Muggleborn. But that's a load of codswallop. A lot of the best wizards in an age have been Muggleborn or half-bloods, an' that includes you. So don' take it to heart, lad." 

Harry nodded. "I won't. I just wondered. So what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" 

"School houses. There's four of 'em. You'll get sorted into one of them on the first night there. Don't worry about that. Ye'll get put wherever's best fer ye." 

They next went to the book store, Flourish and Bott's. Harry had to go up to the front and ask for help because all of his books would need to be in Braille. The proprietor was very helpful, and he had almost all of the books Harry needed for school in Braille, all but the potions book. He was forced to buy the English version and wait until he got to school. He'd ask Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration teacher, to translate the book with a spell. There were also several other books there that Harry decided to buy that weren't on the curriculum, like _Famous Curses and the Men Who Used Them_ by Dorien Morbus, _A Muggle's Guide to Wizarding Britain_ by Mark O'Reilly and _How Does Your Garden Grow: A practical guide to the magical home garden_ by Sharon Rose. Harry was so at home in a garden, he just knew that Herbology was going to be his best subject. 

They bought his cauldron, scales and telescope in one store, along with a set of brass measuring spoons that were marked in Braille, and his potions ingredients and phials in the Apothecary. He knew for a fact that he would have to get everything labeled in Braille. He got the feeling that Potions was a lot like chemistry in basic principle, and if things were done wrong, explosions and worse might occur. 

Outside the Apothecary, they checked Harry's list again. "Just yer wand left- an' I still haven' got ye a bir'day present." 

Harry felt himself flush. "You don't have to--." 

"I know I don' have to. Tell ye what, I'll get an owl fer ye. They're useful as well as lovely, soft an' friendly." So they went into the pet shop, Eeylops Owl Emporium, and twenty minutes later had come out with a snowy owl in a cage. She was very soft, and she had hooted once, then gone to sleep. 

"Thank you, Hagrid. She'll have to stay with you until I get back to school, though. There's really no way that Todders could allow me to have a pet there. She could come to quite a bit of harm there if someone were to get jealous. I wouldn't want anything to happen to her." 

"All right, Harry. Now we've just got ter get to Olivander's. Only place for wands, really. Ye've got ter have the best when it comes to yer wand." 

A magic wand. Harry was really looking forward to this. He hoped that it would help to stabilize his magic. 

Ollivanders was dusty and quiet. It felt something like a library to him. It also felt like magic, prickling against his senses as nothing else he'd yet encountered had done. It wasn't wild, but it was very ambient, like the heat from an oven would saturate a kitchen. 

"Good afternoon." The voice was soft. Harry had heard quiet footsteps, but obviously Hagrid hadn't, as he jumped, startled. "My, my! I didn't think I'd ever see you in here, Mr. Potter. I thought you were dead, as I'm sure the rest of the wizarding world did." 

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I get that a lot." 

Ollivander shook his head. "I remember when your parents were in here buying their first wands." The man turned quickly, the air parting before him as he strode toward the back of the shop and started bringing out wands for Harry to try out. The old man talked about his parents wands and what they would have been good at because of them while he was pulling wands off the shelves. 

Half an hour later, they still hadn't found a wand to fit him. Then Ollivander seemed to get an idea. "I wonder." He rummaged around on his shelves some more, pulling out one more wand box. "Try this one, Mr. Potter. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." 

This time Harry felt something. He felt warmth in his fingertips, which then suffused his body. The feeling he got when he was accidentally doing magic ran through him, but this time it swirled around his hand, pooled in his palm and went into the wand. It slowed, adjusted and then poured back into him. Suddenly Harry felt much calmer. That something within him that was magic was suddenly under the control of the magical element within the wand. 

Ollivander's voice was awed. "Well, that was different, wasn't it? Red and silver sparks. A very interesting combination! And how very curious!" 

"What's curious?" 

"I remember every wand I ever sold, Mr. Potter. The phoenix whose feather is in your wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is very curious, therefore, that this wand should choose you when its brother was the wand that blinded you." Harry felt his eyes widen. "Yes, very curious indeed. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. It's not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we may expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great." 

A chill ran up Harry's spine. Harry paid for his wand, seven Galleons, and left the shop with Hagrid, the weird feeling not leaving him for some time. 

They stopped for dinner at a hamburger joint before Hagrid took Harry back to the orphanage. He ate in silence, going over the day in his mind. "Somethin' wrong, Harry? Yer awfully quiet." 

"Nothing really. Everyone has these expectations of me. I'm famous for something I can't even remember, and I know next to nothing about magic or the wizarding world. It's not that I actually care what most people think of me, but I hate it when people stare. I've gotten that all my life because of my blindness and my scar, and now they'll have an entirely new reason." 

There was a smile in Hagrid's voice. "Don't worry about that. People are people and they'll always stare at somethin' that catches their interest, but somethin' else'll come along fer 'em ter stare at eventually. And you'll learn fast enough. Muggleborns learn it fast enough all the time. You'll see. So to speak." 

Harry chuckled and finished his hamburger.

* * *

That night, Harry lay awake in his bed late into the night, reading his herbology text. He couldn't wait 'till he started school! There was so much to learn, and he had always thirsted for knowledge. He knew the basics of reading, writing and math, but because Todders wouldn't spend the extra money on books in Braille that only he would be able to read, he had been reliant on other people reading for him, and he hadn't been able to research on his own. He hoped to be able to learn a spell that would translate English to Braille and allow him to learn at whatever speed he wished. And maybe he would be able to make a few friends, as well. Not that he'd ever really been lonely at the orphanage, but he'd had to be careful with his feelings. He couldn't develop a strong friendship with someone when they might be adopted out the next day. He knew in his heart that he wouldn't be able to handle that kind of loss, so he didn't put himself in the position. Now he'd be in a boarding school, and he'd be around the same group of people for a total of seven years. He wouldn't have to loose the friends he made! 

Yes, school was going to be great! _Hogwarts, I hope you're ready for me.

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And there we have Chapter 3. Again, this will be very copycat until I can get to a certain point in the story, but don't worry. It'll be in the fifth chapter. There will still be a lot of similarities, but they won't be as bad as this. And as he progresses through life, things will change drastically. The things which are outside Harry's control will be the same as the series, but everything else will change. Review please!_


	4. The Journey

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: Well here I am again. Still no internet access. Thank heavens my muse/beta lives here! 

**It's nice to be appreciated!**

Annoying, isn't she? 

**:b**

Anyway, this chapter is still pretty copycatish. I promise chapter five will be different! I just have to do it this way to get to the point I want. 

**Yeah, the point at which you can torture Harry.**

Yes! I am the evil author! Now hush. Enjoy the show everyone!

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**As A Bat**

The Journey

The last month at the orphanage passed quickly for Harry. He read every book he'd bought, except for _Magical Drafts and Potions_, at least once, and he read the gardening and herbology ones many times over. He just wished that he dared to get one of the other orphans to read the potions text to him, but he was certain that wouldn't be a good idea for some reason. 

The last day of August Harry spent packing up all of his new belongings and his type writers. Jack had told him he'd need to buy a new ribbon for the English one, but the parchment that the school used would stand up to the Braille writer with ease. One had to use high quality paper in a Braille writer because it worked by punching the patterns into the paper. If it was to flimsy, the paper would tear, but parchment wouldn't have any problems. Harry'd already made sure by flattening out the parchment envelope from his first Hogwarts letter and running it through the writer. 

Harry couldn't sleep that night. He was too nervous and excited. He figured he might catch a few winks on the train. Since they didn't have any classes this first day, he didn't think it would be a problem if he hadn't slept. He'd already remembered to reset Rudy's bear, and he knew it would protect everyone until Rudy was old enough to do it himself. It felt strange, like he was choosing an heir or something, but it also felt right. 

Harry felt something crawling around on the foot of his bed around four in the morning. He wasn't too surprised to feel the scales of a snake's belly soon after as Richard slithered up toward Harry's head. "What are you doing in here, Richard? Do you want someone to see you and freak out?" 

The snake hissed in a reptilian chuckle. "No, I didn't plan on it. That's why I'm up so bloody early in the morning. I didn't want you slipping away from me without getting a chance to talk to you. I want to go with you to this school." 

"I don't think they allow snakes, Richard." 

Richard flicked his tongue. "So I sneak in. I saw those robes you bought. They have huge pockets and they're billowy enough to hide anything of weight that might be in them. Plus they're black, which will help. Come on, Harry. I'm still young! I want to travel, see things no other little green garden snake ever has! Please?" 

Harry smirked. "You're annoying when you beg, you know that?" Then he chuckled. "Oh, all right. But if you get caught, don't expect me to claim you when they throw you out the window." 

Four hours later, the dorm started waking up and Harry was dressed and ready to go. He'd bought several outfits other than the school robes in Diagon Alley, seeing as he'd very little in the way of clothing, and he was wearing one of these now. Todders came in at about nine and got Harry and all of his belongings put into the car. On the way to King's Cross Station, he gave Harry a sheaf of documents. "That Headmaster will be needing all of these. They're the copies of your adoption papers. He's already signed and filed everything, but these are for the school's records. Now, let me see your ticket." Harry got the ticket out from his pocket and handed it to Todders. "Well that's interesting. Platform 9 3/4. Hogwarts Express. I hope there's some way for you to find this thing. I'll take you to the place between Platforms 9 and 10, then leave you to it. There's probably plenty of other people who'll be taking that train today. One of them will help you get on, I'm sure." 

Harry said nothing, but he thought sarcastically, _Well, he's not at all happy I'm leaving, is he?_

So Harry was left standing between Platforms 9 and 10 without a clue as to how to get to 9 3/4. He was almost certain that he was going to miss the train, until he heard a female voice griping about how the station was packed with Muggles. He turned around toward her, dragging his trolly behind him so he could have his cane out front. He followed until he heard them stop. 

"Now, what's the platform number?" 

A young female voice piped up. "Nine and three quarters! Mom, can't I go..." 

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first." Harry listened carefully, but there was a great deal of noise in the station and he couldn't hear what Percy was doing. "Fred, you're next." 

A boy's voice answered her. "I'm not Fred! He is!" 

Another, just slightly deeper voice joined in. "Honestly, woman. You call yourself our mother." 

"Sorry George. Come on." 

There was a bit of a shuffle, and then the first one said, "I'm only joking. I am Fred!" Then there was the sound of running and the two, obviously twins from the conversation, were both gone. And Harry still had no idea what they'd done. 

There was nothing else for it. He closed the distance between himself and the family he'd been observing. He knew by sound where the mother was, so he addressed her. "Excuse me." 

There was the sound of her turning to face him. "Hello, dear. First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." 

Yet another boy said, "Hi." 

Harry nodded politely. "Hello. Now, the thing is, I don't know how to get to the train." 

"Oh, that's quite all right, dear. What you do is you walk straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten. You'll go straight through it. Tell you what, I'll get you pointed in the right direction and you just run with your trolly. There should be a bit of a bump once you're on the other side, so you'll know you've made it. And it's only a small one, so you shouldn't trip over it, either." 

The kindly woman aligned Harry and his trolly so that he was pushing it instead of pulling it and hopefully aimed directly at the wall. She put his cane on the trolly so it wouldn't fall off, then said, "Go on, before Ron." 

"Okay." Harry took a deep breath and then took off at a run. He'd never run much, as it was difficult to do when one was blind, but he had no infirmities that would actually prevent it. He just kept running until his trolly hit the slight bump that the woman had warned him of and then slid to a stop. He could hear the train, which sounded different, like it was a steam engine rather than a diesel. This side of the barrier sounded just as noisy as the other side, but the sounds were different, because they included the sounds of cats and owls. And instead of the odor of diesel exhaust, there was the scent of burning wood. This was a very old engine indeed! 

Harry took his cane off the trolly and swung himself around so that he was pulling again with the cane out in front. It was a good thing too, as he would have probably stepped on some poor cat if he hadn't. He must have tapped at least four of them before he got to the baggage compartment, which he found by listening for certain kinds of phrases, like someone saying "Be careful with that! It'll break!" He confirmed it by tapping around until he found a shoe, then addressed the person it belonged to. "Is this the baggage car?" 

The person happened to be a train worker. "Yes it is. I'll get your baggage onboard, all right?" 

"Yeah, thanks. How far away is the entrance?" 

"Once you get on the other side of the baggage pile, it's about fifteen meters. There'll be a break between the cars just before hand. Take care you don't fall to the tracks. The student cars are the very next ones. I'll make sure that the garment bag is put in your compartment so you can change into your robe later." 

"Thank you." 

Harry tapped his way to the other side of the baggage pile and along the side of the train until he reached the entrance to the car. Holding the cane where it touched the steps, Harry climbed the steps onto the train. He asked the attendant for assistance, and he was then led to an empty cabin, where he sat down on one of the bench seats. After just a couple of moments, a porter came in with the garment bag and put it up on a hook just inside the compartment. 

Something slithered around in his pocket, and Richard came out of it. "I never thought about it, but travel must be very nerve wracking for you." 

Harry ginned. "Yes, to a point. But everyone's being very nice, helping me out without being gawky about it." 

It wasn't long, though, before he started hearing the gossip echoing around the train. Harry could have cheerfully strangled the reporter who had decided to spread the fact of his existence around wizarding Britain. Suddenly there was a voice at the curtain of the cabin. It was George, one of the twins from earlier. "Hey, there. You got settled in all right?" 

Harry smiled. "Yeah. Your mum send you in to check on me?" 

Fred answered him, proving that both boys were there. "Yep. She's a bit of a worry wart." 

George said, "We've got to warn you, mate. Rumor's are flying all over the train. You're Harry Potter, aren't you." Harry nodded, frowning. "Hey, don't worry about it. I guess you didn't know how famous you are, eh?" 

Fred joined in. "Not that I'd mind people knowing who I was, but I don't think I'd ever want to be in your shoes, mate." 

"Yeah, Fred. Thanks." 

"Hey, how'd you know I was Fred?" 

Harry's grin was back. "George's voice is just a little lower than yours. I guess from the stunt you pulled on your mum that you're identical twins?" 

They chorused, "Yep!" George said, "Usually people can't tell us apart at all." 

"Yeah, even our mum has trouble at times." 

"Which we, of course, absolutely must take advantage of." Then their mother's voice floated into the cabin through the opened window. 

"Fred? George? Are you there?" 

Fred yelled, "Coming, Mum!" 

George said, "Sorry, mate. We've got to get out there or she'll blow her top." 

Fred finished with, "And no one wants to see Molly Weasly mad enough to blow!" And with that the boys were gone. Harry chuckled and made sure to stay where he could hear the coming conversation. 

"Ron, you've got something on your nose." 

"_Mum!_ -- geroff!" 

One of the twins, and Harry couldn't quite tell which one at this greater distance, started in on the younger brother. "Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" 

"Shut up!" 

Molly said, "Where's Percy?" 

"There he comes now." 

There was a slight pause while apparently the eldest Weasly child walked over to the rest of the family. ""Can't stay long, Mother. I'm up front with the other prefects. We've got two cars all to ourselves." 

One of the twins whined, "How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" 

Molly said, "Because he's a _Prefect._" She paused. "All right dear, have a good term. Send me an owl when you get there. Now you two -- behave yourselves this year. If I get one more owl telling me you've blown up a toilet or--" 

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet!" 

"Great idea, though. Thanks, Mum!" 

"It's _not_ funny. And look after Ron." 

"Don't worry. Ickle Ronnikins is safe with us." 

Ron growled. "Shut up!" 

"Hey, Mum! Guess who we met on the train?" 

"You know that blind boy who was near us at the station? Know who he is?" 

"Who?" 

"_Harry Potter!_" 

Ginny's voice piped up, hyperactive if a voice could be described so. "Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please..." 

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and they poor boy isn't something you goggle at a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?" 

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there -- like lightning." Harry took off his shades briefly, eyes closed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose where the jagged scar sat. The thing was always irritated by the sunglasses, but the alternative would be to freak people out. For some reason, his sightless eyes focusing on people caused a frightening sensation. And the glasses helped to hide that blasted scar. The twins must have been looking for it specifically, else they'd never have noticed it right off. 

"Poor _dear_. No wonder he was alone. I'd wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform." 

"Never mind that! Do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?" 

Molly became very stern. "I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare! As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school." Harry was very thankful for Molly's sense of propriety. 

"All right, keep your hair on." 

The train whistle sounded. 

"Hurry up!" The boys could be heard clambering on to the train. Ginny could be heard to start crying. 

Fred shouted, "Don't, Ginny! We'll send you loads of owls." 

George countered with, "We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!" 

_"George!"_ Harry chuckled. It sounded like the twins were exceptional jokesters. They would be fun to be around. 

The train started to move, giving Harry a jolt of excitement. He didn't really know what he was going to, but he knew it was better than what he was leaving behind. 

Soon after they'd left the station, Ron's voice came from the doorway of the compartment. "D'you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full." 

"Sure. I'm Harry." 

"Ron Weasly. Hey, did you know there was a snake in your pocket?" 

"Yeah. He decided he was coming with me. I told him I wouldn't claim him if he gets caught, but to be honest that's not a very big possibility." 

"You talk to snakes?" 

"Yeah. This is Richard. He's from the garden in the back of the orphanage I grew up in. He kept me company. Sometimes I'd talk to a few of the others, but mostly its just been Richard. Although, just a month ago one of the younglings decided he'd try and sneak up on the 'stupid human'. I swear, it was like a right of passage for the silly things to try and bite me." 

Fred and George were back. "Hey Ron, Harry. We're going down the middle of the train. Lee Jordan's got himself a giant tarantula." 

Richard slithered back into his pocket. "A giant spider! I think I'll be staying hidden if you don't mind." 

Harry shook his head. "No, that's probably best." 

Fred spoke first. "Woah! You're a Parselmouth? That's amazing!" 

George said, "I don't know. We might know that it's a very cool thing, and that your friend there is a completely harmless garter snake, but you're going to freak a lot of people out with that." 

Harry furrowed an eyebrow. "Why? Is it a rare ability or something?" 

Ron said, "Well, yes it's rare, but that's not what people are going to flip out over. First, you're actually speaking Parseltongue, the snake language. I don't know if you realize you're hissing when you do that. And the last known Parselmouth -- well, let's just say you've met him." 

Harry didn't need a translation. Voldemort. "And people are still afraid. Isn't he dead?" 

Fred said, "No one really knows. I doubt it, though." 

George responded. "Yeah. Too bloody minded to die properly. Doubt he'll be a problem again, though. Whatever it was that went wrong--" The boy hesitated, unsure if what they were telling him would bring up bad memories. 

Harry sighed. "Look, all I can remember is light. I can't even tell you what color it was because I hadn't learned colors yet, and after that I never did." 

"It would have been the color green. Anyway, the whole front of the house was destroyed. You-Know-Who might have survived it somehow, but he wouldn't have been worth much." 

Fred changed the subject. "Well we'd better get up there so we can have a gander at that tarantula before all the seats are filled up. See you at school, Harry. We're in third year, Gryffindor House. Don't matter which house you find yourself in, we'll help you around if you need it, and you probably will for a little while. I swear, everyone gets lost at least once in that place!" 

George popped off with, "And some have never been found." 

"No telling where they ended up!" 

Harry chuckled. "I can tell you two are going to be loads of fun!" 

They chorused, "We'll give you a shout later, Harry." 

Harry shook his head, still grinning. "Those two must be great at parties." 

Sardonically, Ron said, "Yeah, it's the rest of the time you have to watch out for them. At a party you expect their sort of pranks, but they do it all the time." 

"How many brothers and sisters have you got all told?" 

"Five brothers and Ginny. She's the one you heard whining. Percy is the third oldest, he got made a Prefect this year, and believe me he'll let you hear about it. It's all we've heard about the whole summer. Charlie works with dragons in Romania and Bill does something in Egypt for Gringott's. All five of them have gotten very good grades in school, Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was the Quidditch Captain. I'm afraid I'll do horribly." 

Harry said, "Nonsense. I'm sure you'll do just as well as everyone else in your family. After all, where else do you get your brains from if not the same place they do?" 

There was a smile in Ron's voice. "Thanks, Harry." 

"Are all your family wizards?" 

"I think so. Mum's got a cousin whose an accountant, but we never talk about him." 

"So you must know loads of magic already." 

"Not really. Hard to when you haven't got a wand. Anyway, so you ended up at an orphanage? How'd that happen?" 

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think even Dumbledore knows." 

"What are Muggles like?" 

"Depends on the Muggle. Charlie Smutherman was a bully, Amos was nice, Jack let me play around in the garden and Mr. Todders was a greedy miser. Most of the kids were just kids, normal. The cook was happy to let me help 'round the kitchen since I enjoy that sort of thing." 

"So you weren't raised wealthy, then? I'd have thought...but then I guess you wouldn't be with every wizard in the world believing you were dead." 

"Well, until a month ago, I hadn't a clue that I had a penny to my name. And the money in the vault my parents left me is for school. I can't really just spend a lot of it, although I do intend to spend a bit on clothes. Comfortable fabrics that aren't so worn out you'll tear them and aren't so stiff brand new that you'll get a rash." 

Harry bought a little bit of everything when the candy trolly came around, as it didn't cost all that much money. Ron introduced his rat, Scabbers, as a rather pathetic creature, but it was all his family could afford to give him. It was snoozing on Ron's lap. "He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday so's to make him more interesting but it didn't work." Ron started rummaging around in his bag to find his wand and demonstrate. He muttered, "Unicorn hair's sticking out the end. Anyway..." 

Just then the compartment door slid open again. A female voice, bossy and exasperated said, "Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one." 

Ron probably shook his head, but Harry said, "Haven't heard one, but I wasn't listening for one either." 

She said, "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then." 

Ron seemed nervous. "Er--all right." He cleared his throat. _"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow."_

But nothing happened. Harry didn't even hear the rat squeak. 

The girl said, "Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells myself, and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course. I mean it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course. I just hope it will be enough. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. Who are you?" She said all this very fast. 

Harry just knew he had a panicked look on his face. _Learned all the course books by heart?_ He'd read and reread the Herbology text enough that he had it memorized, but the others he'd only read once! And, of course, he hadn't had a chance to even look at the Potions book because he still needed to get it translated. 

Ron seemed disgruntled as he answered her, so maybe he hadn't memorized all of the material either. "I'm Ron Weasly." 

"Harry Potter." 

"Are you really? I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for some background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_." 

"Am I?" 

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me. Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I heard Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Anyway, you two had better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon." 

As she left, Ron sighed. "Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it." The wand made a clatter as it was thrown back into the bag. "Stupid spell -- George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud." 

"What house are your brothers in?" 

"Gryffindor." Gloom seemed to infiltrate his voice again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't suppose Ravenclaw _would_ be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin." 

"That's the house Vol- I mean, You-Know-Who was in?" 

"Yeah," The other boy flopped back into his seat. 

Trying to take Ron's mind off of houses, Harry asked, "So, your older brother works for Gringott's?" 

"Yeah. Hey, did you hear about Gringott's? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles -- someone tried to rob a high security vault." 

Harry felt his eyebrows fly upwards. "Really? What happened to them?" 

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My Dad says it must have been a powerful dark wizard to get past _their_ security, but they don't think anything was taken. That's what's so odd about it. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it." 

Harry turned this information over in his mind. It was odd how saying Voldemort's name had been so much easier than saying You-Know-Who. The second was quiet and fearful, while the first was just a name. 

Ron changed the subject. "What's your Quidditch team?" 

Harry smiled. "I don't have one. I doubt I'll get much out of the game, since I can't see." 

Ron deflated. "Oh, right. I wish you could, though, it'd be fun to teach you about it. It really is the best game!" And Ron went on to explain how the game was played and such since everyone would be talking about it and it wouldn't do for his new friend to be totally ignorant of the game. He was still discussing it when the compartment door slid open again, but this time it wasn't Hermione or even Neville. 

There were three distinct sets of shoes. One voice said, "Is it true?" It was Malfoy, the boy from Madame Malkin's. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?" 

"Yes. Who're your companions?" 

There was a pause as Malfoy got over the fact that Harry'd know they were there. "Oh, these are Crabbe and Goyle. And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." 

Ron gave a slight cough that might have been hiding a snigger. 

"Think my name's funny do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand me down robe? You must be a Weasly. They always did have more children than they could afford." 

The arrogant youth addressed Harry again. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." 

Harry smirked. He didn't know it for himself, of course, but with those shades on, he looked absolutely devilish when he did that. "I think I can figure that out for myself, but thank you. I told you once that who a person's parents were shouldn't matter, and I'll stand by that. As it is, you're the one making the poor impression." 

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit more polite, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either. You hang out with the riffraff and it'll rub off on you." 

Slowly Harry stood, cane in hand. He used the cane to prevent Ron from also standing, striking the seat so that the length of it was across his lap. Making sure that only Malfoy and his companions were in a position to see him, Harry took his shades off, focusing his attention on the only one of them which had spoken. 

The dead eyes always made an impression. He heard identical gasps from all three boys and filed the sounds as a height reference for later. He left his focus on the leader. "I'd suggest you leave my parents out of any arguments we might have in the future, unless you wish to learn the fine art of eating through a straw. And at least the people I choose to associate with have the faculty and intelligence to speak. Are they mute, or merely stupid? I wouldn't want to insult them unintentionally. After all, I know the feeling." 

One of the larger boys said, "Hey! I can talk!" 

Harry chuckled and gave the appearance of looking straight at him. "Better to be thought an idiot than to open your mouth and remove all doubt." He turned back to Malfoy. "If you ever wish to be my friend, remember what I've told you and gather enough courage to apologize to Ron for your remarks." He gave one last grin, then turned away, replacing his shades as he did so. "I suggest you leave." 

But Malfoy was stubborn. "Oh, but we don't feel like leaving, do we boys. We've eaten all our food, but you still seem to have some." 

The words caused Harry to become very focused. He knew what they meant from countless encounters with other bullies. He heard the crinkle of candy foil and struck out with his cane, the speed of a snake in his movements. He struck the boy's hand and followed the movement upward to strike the upper arm. Goyle wouldn't be able to use that arm for the rest of the day, but he would be fine, if bruised, in the morning. 

The sudden sound of footsteps from just down the corridor caused the three boys to run off. A second later, Hermione had come back in. "What _has_ been going on? You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!" 

Ron didn't say anything, but Harry suspected he might have made a face at her. "You mind leaving so we can change?" 

"Fine! I only came in here in the first place because people are running up and down the hall way, acting childish. Oh, you've got dirt on your nose, did you know?" The girl huffed off. 

Ron snickered. "So, if you don't mind my asking, how in the world did you do that? It was bloody brilliant, by the way." 

Harry chuckled. "Thanks. I just have very good hearing and very good ear-hand coordination. I can hear the air move when you do. For instance, I know that Scabbers is awake now and sniffing around something, probably the candy." 

"Wicked!" Ron paused. "So, you've met Malfoy before?" Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley. "I've heard of his family. They were the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says they didn't need an excuse to go over to the dark side." 

Harry sensed a change in the movement of the train. "We're slowing down. We'll probably be there very soon. Let's get changed." Harry stood and opened the garment bag that held his several school uniforms, retrieving one pair of pants, one shirt, one silk tie, one jumper and one plain black work robe and started pulling off his other clothes, neatly folding them as he went so that he didn't loose track of anything. It was a fact of blind living. If you weren't careful, you would loose something. But Harry was used to it and he never forgot. 

A voice echoed through the train. "We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately." 

They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and Harry put the clothes he'd just doffed at the bottom of the garment bag, grabbed his cane, then joined everyone else out in the corridor. 

The train slowed right down and then finally stopped. People were pushing their way toward the door, and Harry put his left hand on Ron's shoulder so that he wouldn't get turned around. "Tell me if we're going to use steps." They made their way out onto the platform, and Harry heard a familiar voice over the noise of the crowd. Hagrid. 

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Harry grinned. "C'mon, follow me -- anymore firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" 

Harry didn't trip over anything because he had his cane out in front of him, but he heard sounds that suggested otherwise of the other students, which told him it was probably dark out, as well as the fact that the path was very steep. A light breeze reached them after whispering through trees to either side of their way. Harry could smell the wet green of vegetation, and he thought he could smell a lot of water close by. No one spoke much, concentrating on their footing. Hagrid called out, "Ye'll get yer firs' sight o' in a sec, jus' 'round this bend here." 

A little while further and several students let out surprised and appreciative noises. Harry said to Ron, "Describe it to me. Please!" 

Ron said, "There's a lake, and on the other side, it's a castle, with towers and turrets and lights on in every window! The lake's like glass, so you see it reflected in the water. Wish you could see this, mate!" 

Hagrid called, "No more'n four to a boat!" 

Ron tapped Harry's hand. "C'mon Harry." With direction from Ron, who was catching on quickly to what was required to aid a blind boy in movement, they got into a boat, followed by Hermione and Neville. 

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid. "Right then -- FORWARD!" 

The boat started to move, and again everyone was silent. Harry could feel the wetness of the air they were passing through and smell the faint scent of algae in the water, hear the faint rippling of the lake from their passage. After having ducked and being attacked by the ivy that hid the dock, they passed through an echoing passage that Harry guessed was a tunnel and then made their berth on a pebble shore and climbed out of the boats. 

"Oy, you there. Is this yer toad?" 

"Trevor!" Harry grinned, glad that Neville had been reunited with his pet. 

They walked up a flight of stone stairs that echoed with the steps of the students and the tapping of Harry's cane. Then they came to a stop and Hagrid knocked on a door three times, very loudly.

* * *

_And here's this chapter. We've got our internet access back as I post this, so you shouldn't have to wait too much for the next chapter of this thing. And please remember to review!_


	5. The Sorting Hat

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: Thanks, everyone, for your reviews! I would like to congratulate Aliba. You were correct, as you will discover in this chapter. And to the person who asked about Quidditch, no, but I do plan to get him on a broom. As A Bat, as you know. And finally, to the person who asked about why everyone thought Harry was dead, I explained in Chapter 2 that the Dursleys' house blew up in a gas main explosion. While they didn't find Harry's body, the destruction was so horrific that they couldn't see how Harry would have survived it, when in fact, Harry had never been in danger because he wasn't there in the first place. (In the original storyline, this explosion would have been averted by Harry's own accidental magic.) 

Again, thanks everyone for your comments. 

Enjoy!

* * *

**As A Bat**

The Sorting Hat

The door swung open, creaking just slightly, and Harry could hear the sounds of another pair of shoes and the swish of velvet. 

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid. 

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." There was a stern quality to her voice that told Harry that this was not someone to cross. The door creaked again, and then everyone started moving forward, Harry pulled along by his hand on Ron's shoulder. He hoped he didn't get too turned around in this place. He could already tell that it was very large, just by the quality of the echoes he was hearing. He could also hear the crackling of flame and thought the walls were probably lit with flaming torches. 

They walked along, presumably following Professor McGonagall, crossing a flagstone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from muffled space off to his right -- the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall showed them into a small, empty sounding chamber off to the side. They crowded in, Harry getting jostled in the process as they were all standing closer together than they normally would have done. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. 

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. 

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." 

She left the chamber and Harry swallowed. "How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron. 

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." 

Harry frowned. A test? Not only in front of the entire school, but at a time when he and any Muggleborn students wouldn't have had a chance to learn any magic? He could hear everyone around him start to breathe harder, just as nervous as he was. Then someone screamed as the temperature in the air dropped about three degrees. Harry instinctively tightened his grip on the cane. "What is it?" 

Someone shouted "Ghosts!" 

Ghosts! Nothing could have prepared him for that. New voices joined the panicked ones of the students. They seemed to be arguing about something. A tenor was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance--" 

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost -- I say, what are you all doing here?" One of the ghosts had finally noticed the first years. 

Nobody answered. 

"New students!" said the Friar, a smile in his voice. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" 

Again, no one said anything, though someone probably nodded. 

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know." 

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. Gradually the influence of the ghosts on the room dissipated. "Now, form a line and follow me." 

Feeling nervous still, Harry got into line behind Ron, keeping his hand on the other boy to ensure he was in line and picking his cane up a bit. He was sure that the Great Hall would be a reasonably flat surface, free of obstacles. They walked back across the hall and Harry heard the doors of the Great Hall open. 

As they walked, Harry could hear countless muted sounds over what the walking students were making. There must have been hundreds of people to either side of them, students just like them, only older. The other first years were whispering a bit, and he heard Hermione talking to someone about the ceiling. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_." With Harry's hearing, it was hard to believe there was a ceiling at all, as no sound echoed downward, and he wondered if the illusion was that complete or if it was just that high up. 

They stopped, and there was the scraping of a stool across the stone of the floor and then the very soft sound of something made of heavy cloth hitting wood. For a few seconds there was complete silence, and then there was a new voice. And it was singing! 

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty  
But don't judge on what you see.  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. "So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll." 

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. He had always hated it when people stared at him, and now they would have plenty reason. And he wasn't feeling much like the good qualities of any of the houses at the moment. 

Professor McGonagall addressed the first years. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!" There was movement in the line as the girl made her way to the front to be sorted. A moment's pause-- 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. 

A large group of students on the right cheered and Hannah went to join them. 

"Bones, Susan!" 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" 

"Boot, Terry!" 

"RAVENCLAW!" This time the cheering came from the left. 

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the cheering came from even further to the left; Harry could hear Ron's twin brothers cat-calling. 

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. 

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!" 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" 

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the boy just next to Ron and Harry in line, waited for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor. 

"Granger, Hermione!" Harry could hear her running and snickered. 

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat, and Ron groaned. 

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're nervous. If he was separated from Ron by the hat, would their new friendship die before it had a chance to grow? "Hey, Ron?" 

"Yeah, Harry?" 

"Even if we aren't in the same house, can we still be friends? I mean, what if I get put in Ravenclaw or Slytherin and you get put in Gryffindor? I've never had a real friend, Ron." 

"You bet, mate. I promise I won't let houses get in the way if we end up in different places. No matter what." 

When Neville Longbottom was called, he tripped over his robe, but Harry caught him as he fell. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville, but he was put in Gryffindor. Everyone in line laughed at something and Ron told Harry that Neville had run off with the hat still on his head. 

Malfoy was called, and his steps seemed slow and controlled. Harry thought he had a bit of a swagger to him. The hat instantly screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" 

There weren't many people left now. Moon...Nott...Parkinson...Patil...Patil (obviously another pair of twins) then "Perks, Sally-Anne." 

Then, at last -- "Potter, Harry!" 

Whispers erupted around him, but Ron kept his attention. "Straight forward, Harry." 

"Thanks, Ron." 

Harry put his cane out in front once again. He met no shoes on his way to the steps, as people moved out of his way. The sounds of whispers from all over the hall reached his ears and he cringed. It seemed there would be no escaping his fame at this school. He reached the top step and found the stool with his cane and sat down on it. Then he felt the hat being plunked onto his head. He waited. 

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. It was the hat. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting....So where shall I put you?" 

Harry thought about it himself. _Wherever you think is best. I want to excel and I don't care what strangers think of me. I just don't like it when they stare._

"Really? Well then, better be SLYTHERIN!" The hat shouted the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and handed it to Professor McGonagall. 

As the whole hall erupted into loud chatter and Slytherin cheered, Ron was suddenly at his elbow. "I'll take you to your table, Harry. I meant what I said. I'm still your friend." They walked down the steps together, Ron taking him to his new table. "People are going to want to shake your hand, Harry." 

"I know." As soon as they'd reached the table he said, "See you later, mate." 

Harry sat down at the table, collapsing his cane and slipping it into one of the pockets of his robe so he wouldn't loose it. A voice to the side said, "Marcus Flint." It was a deep, gravelly voice that put his height at almost six feet. 

"Hello." 

There were several other introductions throughout the Slytherin table, though thankfully Malfoy kept his nose out. The Sorting was finished, with Dean Tomas and Ron being put in Gryffindor, Lisa Turpin in Ravenclaw and Blaise Zabini in Slytherin. He just wanted the food to come so he could eat. He knew there was a plate in front of him, but it was empty. And the company around the table was lacking. He thought that the other Slytherins just didn't know what to make of him, and that was rather disheartening. He just wanted to eat and be on to bed. 

Finally, the Headmaster spoke. There was a great smile in his voice as he addressed the student body. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" 

Everyone clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. This was certainly not the gravely apologetic man whom he'd met a month ago at the orphanage. "Is he -- a bit mad?" 

Someone snorted. "You'd better believe it!" It was Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker and a fifth year. "He's crafty though, and ruddy powerful. No one's for sure which house he was in, but I'm sure it was either Gryffindor or Slytherin. It's up in the air as to which, though." 

Harry's nose suddenly went wild. "The food's here?" There were several offers to fill his plate for him, but he just asked what each thing was and set about arranging his place setting so he'd know what was where. He took the roast chicken, boiled potatoes, peas, carrots and gravy over all the vegetables. He ignored the peppermint humbugs and the Yorkshire pudding and decided he didn't need all the other meats on his plate, though there was roast beef, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak. And he didn't much care for ketchup, either. 

He'd never really been starved at Mung Street, but neither had he ever really been full. It was a pleasant feeling, and Harry planned to enjoy it. 

There was a sudden cooling at his left elbow. "So, you're in my house, are you, Potter?" 

"Are you a ghost, sir?" 

The spirit snorted. "Yes, of course. They call me the Bloody Baron, and that for two reasons, neither of which really concern you. I notice that you are blind. How is it that you knew what I was?" 

"The air is colder around you." 

"Ah. So, are all of your working senses enhanced like that?" 

"I suppose. My coordination is very good. I've never needed that much help, as long as someone shows me how to get where I'm going the first time." 

"Amazing! That could prove useful, I imagine. You'd know it if someone was going to try and stab you in the back." 

Harry sensed that this was a sensitive subject for the Slytherin ghost, possibly the way that he'd died. "So, what's your real name?" 

"Baron Alexander Dracul Malfoy." 

Harry grinned. "You'd be related to this year's Mr. Malfoy, then?" 

"I'm likely his ancestor, but since I died in 1783, it doesn't mean all that much." The ghost paused. "Not that I won't take him to task if he annoys me, but then I'd do that for any Slytherin. I believe that we all have a standard to maintain. Oh, by the way, if a certain poltergeist by the name of Peeves decides to come after you for any reason, tell me about it. The little beast is getting on a lot of nerves around here, never mind that we ghosts don't have them." 

There were sudden screams from the Gryffindor table and Baron Malfoy chuckled. "People really should know better than to ask him what's meant by Nearly Headless Nick. The axe man missed by a bit. His head was left hanging on by just a bit of skin. Now, Mr. Potter, I'm sure your head of house, Professor Severus Snape, will assign someone to make sure you don't get lost your first few weeks. Personally, I'd recommend that last lad, Zabini. Well, have a good evening." 

The scents at the table changed again as Baron Malfoy left, turning decidedly sweeter. Ice cream, apple pie, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding and so many others you'd never really be able to catalogue it had appeared on the tables. Conversation floated around him, never actually including him, which was okay with Harry. He was rather used to it as that was what usually happened at the orphanage. 

Rather suddenly, a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's nose. "Ouch!" Harry let his shades slide downward a bit so he could grasp at the bridge of his nose. 

"What is it?" asked Higgs. 

"N-nothing." 

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. But Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that this didn't bode well for his future here. "Is someone looking at me up at the head table?" 

"Professor Snape seems to be interested in you, but then he's our head of house. Professor Quirrel's got his back to you, so it wouldn't be him. Honestly, Potter, you've got the attention of the entire hall." 

Harry grumbled. "Wonderful." 

Draco sneered, "Is Potter not enjoying his celebrity?" 

He snorted. "Hardly. I feel like a biology specimen in a museum." No one said anything about that. "So what does Professor Snape teach?" 

Higgs answered him. "Potions, though I think he'd like the Dark Arts job. He'd do a better job of it than Quirrel at any rate." 

At last, the desserts disappeared as well, and the hall went expectantly silent. 

Professor Dumbledore spoke once again. "Ahem -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. 

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." There was a pause into which the Weasly twins could be heard to laugh. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madame Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." 

Harry blinked behind his shades. "Is he serious?" 

"He usually is about that sort of thing. Though he usually explains himself. Oh well." 

"And now before we go to bed, let us sing the school song! Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!" 

Harry had to plug his ears at first, with everyone using so many different tunes for the same song with different rhythms, tempos and keys battling with each other. Everyone finished at different times, leaving in the end only Fred and George, who had chosen a very slow funeral dirge. Harry had to laugh at their antics, nor was he the only one, though none of his housemates joined in. 

With that, they were all sent to bed. The Slytherins followed their Prefect, who happened to be Terrence Higgs, to the Slytherin dorms, which were down in the dungeons. Harry had to be careful of the stairs, and he realized that the whole place was full of them. Higgs had promised him to tell him how to catch a moving staircase in the act later. They left the staircases for a corridor six flights down. Harry kept to the edge of the hallway and was keeping track of the route by counting doorways with his cane. 

Two things happened at once; there was a sound of creaking metal and Malfoy shouted "Potter! Down!" Harry instinctively dropped into a crouch and tumbled forward, coming to his feet and spinning back around to meet the threat, both hands clutching the cane as if it were a staff. Then he heard the screeching clang of metal on stone. 

"What is it?!" 

Higgs said, "Armor suit. Don't worry, it's settled back down. Good reflexes, Potter. What were you doing that you touched it?" 

"Counting doorways. I don't plan on getting lost. Are there any more of those things on our way?" 

"No, he's the only one on this route. But I think this proves you're going to need a guide for a few weeks until you can get the main routes memorized. You should ask Professor Snape about it tomorrow." 

They continued onward for two more doorways, and then they all stopped. Harry didn't feel a door there, only a blank stone wall. Higgs said in a clear voice, "_Asphodel_." Harry felt something shift and then he heard stone on stone as part of the wall pulled away. They all went inside. There was carpet on the floor, but that didn't really mask the stone sound of the echoes in the room. It felt like a comfortable little snake hole, and Harry grinned. There was a fireplace along one wall and torches along the others, giving the space a homey feel as well. Harry loved the crackle and smoke of a wood burning fireplace. He'd only had occasion to be in the presence of one once, when Todders was visiting the home of one of his relatives and had taken along several of the worst picked-upon young orphans with him so that they wouldn't be left to the mercy of the bullies while he was gone, and he'd fallen in love with it then. The cold just didn't suit him very well. 

They were then led to a side door and into their dormitory. Harry's belongings had been placed next to the bed which was closest to the door, which suited Harry just fine, since it not only afforded him a quick escape route if he felt he needed one, but also gave him less opportunity to stumble if someone left something out on the floor. Hedwig was there, too, already asleep in her cage. She chirped sleepily at him when he reached in to pet her a bit, then started to ignore him, which he took to mean she'd gone back to sleep. 

He knew that there were five other boys in here. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Alex Nott and Blaise Zabini. They would be his room mates for the next seven years. He could only hope that they started to become friends after a time, though he would be firm on his requirement to Malfoy that he apologize to Ron Weasly, and he'd try and make sure that Ron accepted the apology. Otherwise it would just spark another fight. 

Harry sat on the bed and felt his pocket slither again as Richard came out of it. Mindful of what the Weaslys had told him about his speech, he was quiet. Richard said, "I need to go hunting tonight, Harry." The blind boy nodded. "This will be a good place for you, Harry. I'll talk to you later after my meal has had a chance to digest a bit." 

Harry was very quiet as he said, "Just remember, you get caught and I don't know you." 

Richard chuckled and went on his way. 

"Snakes aren't allowed as pets, you know." 

"He's not my pet. He's my friend. Decided he wanted to travel and came with me. I warned him not to get caught. Who is this, by the way?" 

"Sorry, I'm Blaise Zabini. So, how did the son of two Gryffindors end up in Slytherin house?" 

"I didn't even know that they were Gryffindors. I was abandoned by the people Dumbledore originally left me with and all I've had for my entire life is their names. Sometimes I think I hear a woman singing a lullaby in my dreams, but I'm never sure I'm not just wishful dreaming. Thing is, I can't remember the words along with the tune, 'Greensleeves'." 

"Well, I know that most of the others aren't sure what to make of you, Harry, and that's part of the reason. Another part is that a lot of the Slytherins' parents served You-Know-Who, and since you're the one that put an end to him, they'll be conflicted about it. But I wouldn't worry too much. They'll see you're worth knowing soon enough." 

"I hope you're right. Otherwise it's going to be a long seven years." 

"So, you're a Parselmouth? That's a very rare ability. A bit ironic, actually." 

Harry smirked. "So I've heard." He sighed. "Well, dinner is catching up with me. I think I should get some sleep." 

"Right. See you in the morning, Harry." 

Harry just nodded. He took off his shades, his back turned to the other boys, and dressed for bed. The shades, cane and wand all rested next to each other on the nightstand, all a piece of who he was now. 

Harry slept fitfully, dreaming that something was on his head, tightening with every breath he took. A whispery voice told him that he belonged to it now and there was no escape. A high, cold laugh seemed to ring in his ears. Harry jolted awake, listening carefully to the sounds of the room around him. But the only sounds that reached him were the snores of the other boys. He went back to sleep, and when he woke the next morning, he didn't remember the dream at all.

* * *

_Well, there you have it. Again, I'd like to thank all of my reviewers for their wonderful comments! Now, we're having internet trouble around here still, and I won't always be able to post immediately after finishing and betaing my work. My Dad decided to switch to DSL from cable. This would have normally been a good thing, but something happened when he was working on it and the router is busted. So we're down to one connected computer in the whole house with five adults wanting to use it. I still work on the stories since they're on disk, but I'm never sure when I can post, so beware. _

Review please! 


	6. Classes Begin

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! This chapter came along fairly quickly, surprisingly, so I'll be able to get started on the next one fairly quickly. Harry gets into the air in this chapter. 

Enjoy!

* * *

**As A Bat**

Classes Begin

"There, look." 

"Where?" 

"Next to Malfoy's goons." 

"Wearing the sunglasses?" 

"Did you see his face?" 

"Did you see his scar?" 

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. He could feel eyes on him no matter where he went, and he wished they wouldn't because he was trying to concentrate on memorizing his routes to his classes so that he wouldn't get lost once Blaise was no longer his official guide. 

And getting lost was a very real danger. There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones that were sure to give him nightmares; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was hard to remember at times because things tended to want to move a lot, and Harry had more than one run in with the coats of armor. 

Worse than all of that was Peeves the Poltergeist, especially if you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you invisible, grab your nose and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!" Thankfully for Harry, he made the temperature drop in the area just like any other ghost, and he quickly learned to threaten the horrid little creature with Baron Malfoy. 

Even worse than Peeves, if it were possible, was Argus Filch. Harry and Blaise got lost on their very first morning and ended up at the third floor on the right side, and neither of them realizing it. They were trying to get in the door and Filch wouldn't believe them that they were lost and hadn't realized it. Or rather, he believed Harry because Harry was blind and started accusing Blaise of trying to get him into trouble. They were finally rescued by Professor Quirrell, who happened to be passing by. 

And he had a cat, Mrs. Norris, who was just as bad, and she could get Filch to appear in seconds after spotting you if you were breaking a rule. The students all hated the both of them, regardless of house, and many held it to be their dearest ambition to give Mrs. Norris a good swift kick. 

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry had known, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words. 

Harry was excused from Astronomy, of course, but he became the favorite student of Professor Sprout, who taught them Herbology, where he learned from a master how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. He often went to the greenhouses to study and wasn't surprised at all to find that Richard had made his way into them. The little snake found himself paying very close attention to Harry's herbology lessons because some of the plants would have killed him if given half the chance. He was rather out of place for a little Muggle snake, and he was being kept on his toes. 

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, Harry typing away with his Braille writer. The other students learned quickly that either he or Hermione were the ones to come to if you'd fallen asleep and needed the History notes for the day or if you got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. 

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. The first time he'd called roll for their class, when he got to Harry's name, he could be heard to give an excited squeak and then collapse behind the desk. 

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." 

Then she changed her desk into a pig, which Harry could hear snorting, and back again. The class were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Gryffindor Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match and she still hadn't completely changed it. Harry's biggest problem was that he didn't know what any of it looked like, only what it felt like. Professor McGonagall had promised to do some research on blind Transfigurists for him. She'd also done a spell to translate his Potions book into Braille for him. He'd spent an extra hour with her learning that spell by heart, as it was obviously one he was going to need. She had been very accommodating, even though he was a Slytherin. 

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. Fred had told him that the Professor's turban ("Ghastly purple thing. Be glad you can't see it, Harry.") was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. 

Harry was relieved to find that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. In fact, Harry'd had more indication than most as his sense of magic tried to compensate along with his other four senses for his lack of sight. There was so much to learn that even people like Malfoy didn't have much of a head start, no matter how he tried to brag about things he could do. 

Friday, the Slytherins had double Potions with the Gryffindors. Blaise had told him that Snape tended to favor his house in class, but Harry was skeptical. He hadn't had much chance to read the Potions book as McGonagall had only translated it for him the previous day, and he'd read every other book he had at least once. He was likely going to flounder quite a bit at first. 

They were at breakfast that day and Harry had learned not to jump at the hundreds of owls flitting about his head. They were delivering the mail, and with so many students, there was a lot of mail. Not that Harry ever got any, but that was all right. Hedwig would sometimes come by and nuzzle him anyway, but today she actually had a note with her. Harry opened it immediately, but while he could tell that there was ink on the paper, he couldn't read it. "Blaise, can you read this for me?" 

"Sure. If I can, this person has very bad handwriting." Then he began to read, haltingly, trying to pick out the words from the handwriting. 

**Dear Harry, **

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig. 

Hagrid 

Harry grinned. "You have a quill handy?" 

"Yeah, you want me to write your message for you?" 

"Yeah, thanks. Just say, _Yes, please, see you later._" 

The note was sent off with Hedwig, and then the boys were off to Potions. 

The few times he'd met Professor Snape, he'd gotten the feeling that the man didn't like him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry -- he _hated_ him. 

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder than the Slytherin dorms and it seemed damp some how, slimy. The place seemed designed to make the hairs on the back of your neck stick up. 

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new -- _celebrity_." 

Draco Malfoy and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle could be heard to snigger. Snape seemed to echo the presence of his dungeon, cold and slimy, an amphibian demeanor rather than a reptilian one. That's what this felt like, a frog hole. A poisonous frog's hole. 

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with it's shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." 

More silence followed this little speech. Harry just raised an eyebrow. _Full of himself, isn't he?_

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" 

Harry thought about it. "I'm not really sure. Both are very powerful sedatives, though. You might not wake up from it." 

"Hmm. Not entirely correct, but close. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" 

"I don't know that one, sir." 

"Didn't read the Potions manual, eh, Potter?" Harry could hear the sneer in the voice, and he felt his eyes narrow. 

"No sir, as I was only able to get it translated into Braille yesterday." 

"Ah yes, you're blind, aren't you. Well, how, then, do you expect to pass a class which has a largely visual component?" 

Harry was getting tired of the man's attitude, and his own snarkiness came to the fore. "I do have four other senses, Professor, as well as an excellent memory." 

Harry heard a bare growl and knew he was getting to the man. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" 

"There isn't one. The plant is also known as aconite. Are you through picking on me or are you going to let Hermione answer a few questions since she seems to be hopping around over there to get your attention?" 

"That will be quite enough, Mr. Potter! For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death, and a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. And why aren't you all copying that down?" 

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "I suggest you watch your step, Mr. Potter. And read the book!" 

Snape set everyone into pairs and had them mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around the room, his cloak making more noise than his shoes, watching as the students weighed dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acidic smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in peoples shoes. Blaise warned Harry and he got up on his stool when everyone else did, grabbing his Braille writer off the floor so that it wouldn't be ruined. Neville could be heard moaning in pain. 

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape. Harry felt the heat from the creeping potion dissipate and knew that Snape had gotten rid of it. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Neville whimpered painfully. "Take him to the hospital wing!" 

Suddenly Snape was back in Harry's face. He had to resist the urge to smack him. "I wasn't aware that sunglasses were part of the school uniform, Potter! Get rid of them." 

Harry grinned evilly. "As you wish." Harry took the shades off his face and pocketed them, keeping his eyes closed as he did so, then opening them suddenly. The sight would become legend overnight. Harry's dead gray eyes stared into the obsidian gaze of the Potions Master in a staring contest that the sighted man could not win. He didn't flinch, as he'd stared into worse eyes, but he seemed surprised, as if there were something in the sightless grin that he hadn't expected to see. 

"I think we can make an exception in your case." 

Harry's grin turned into a smirk. "Thank you. They're for other people's comfort, not mine." 

"Hmm." 

With that, class was dismissed. As he got on the other side of the door, Ron nearly tackled him. "Way to go, mate! I can't believe you stood up to him like that!" 

"I can't believe he attacked me like that. What on earth is his problem? I'm one of his own students!" 

Blaise was on his other side. "Don't know, Harry, but I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. You held your own very well." 

"Yeah, but he's going to be the one grading my papers." 

"Cheer up," said Ron. "At least he didn't take off any points. He's always taking points off of Fred and George." 

Blaise sniggered. "And they didn't deserve a bit of it, right?" 

Ron chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure they did. But if you think about it, so would Harry for talking back. Hey, you're going to meet Hagrid later, right? Can I go with you?" 

"Sure, you too, Blaise." 

"Thanks." 

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest, and when the school year was done, so would Harry. 

When Harry knocked on the front door they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "_Back,_ Fang -- _back._" Hagrid's voice became clearer. "Hang on. _Back,_ Fang." 

He let them in, and Harry could tell that there was a _very_ large dog right next to the big man. 

As Harry tripped over something in the floor, he could tell that Hagrid was going to have to be educated on the realities of living with a blind person. Things had to remain in their place, not littering surfaces and floors. But that could wait. There seemed to only be one room, with food smells coming from the fire and strangely from the ceiling. There was massive furniture all over the place, and Harry thought that the object he'd tripped over might have been a boot. 

"Make yerselves at home, lads." The dog settled down beside Ron and a slurping sound could be heard. Clearly, like Hagrid, Fang was not as fearsome as size would indicate. 

"These are Ron and Blaise," Harry told Hagrid, who was puttering around in the kitchen portion of the hut. 

"Another Weasly, eh? I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest. An' I don' believe I know ye at all." 

"Zabini's my name." 

The three of them talked companionably with the huge man about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes as he tried to politely enjoy the rock cakes which were living up to their name. 

All three boys were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git." 

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her -- Filch puts her up to it." 

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid told him not to worry about it as Snape didn't like hardly _any_ of the students. 

"Well I can handle him, but he seemed to simply _hate_ me. What I'm worried about is my grades." 

"Rubbish! Why should he hate you?" 

Hagrid started talking to Ron about his elder brother, Charlie, and the work he was doing in Romania with dragons and Harry was searching with his hands for the tea pot. He found it, and his hands brushed against a paper. It was a newspaper. Harry whispered the translation charm that Professor McGonagall had taught him and went to reading what was on the paper. 

**GRINGOTT'S BREAK-IN LATEST **

Investigations continue into the bread-in at Gringott's on  
31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches  
unknown. Gringott's goblins today insisted that nothing had been  
taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the  
same day. "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep  
your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringott's  
spokesgoblin this afternoon. 

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringott's, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date. Harry decided not to mention anything about it. He didn't want to put Hagrid into a position where he'd have to say something in front of the other boys when he wasn't supposed to say anything about it to anyone. But Harry didn't think it was a coincidence that Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen. Had the small item Hagrid had pulled out been what the thieves were looking for? If so, it had been done just in time. And just what that meant, Harry had no idea.

* * *

Harry had met many bullies in his time, and Draco was just another bully to him. He took every opportunity to foster the horrible rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. When the notice was posted that flying lessons started on Thursday and that it would be held with the Gryffindors, Malfoy was gleefully anticipating getting some points deducted from their house. He had left off baiting Ron specifically, but he tormented any of the others that he could. Harry decided that, even though that was a free period for him he would come and "watch". He didn't hold with the stupid rivalry and he kept his friends in both houses, refusing to allow them to fight in his presence. The Weasly twins still pulled pranks, but they did it in a non-partisan manner, which Harry had no quarrel with. They'd tried to prank him more than once, but he was, so far, too fast for them. Ron had actually become friendly with Blaise, and had come to realize that his prejudices against Slytherin house might have been unjustified. Not everyone was like Draco. 

To hear Malfoy, he'd been flying since he could walk, but none of them really believed it. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a loud argument with Dean Thomas at breakfast about soccer. 

Blaise had never flown and neither had Neville or Hermione. No one was sure if Crabbe or Goyle ever had, but Harry hoped not. 

The current argument over the game was interrupted by the arrival of the mail. Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home which he had to gloat over. 

Neville got a package dropped in his plate. He opened it and said, "It's a Remembrall! Gran knows I forget things -- this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red -- oh..." There was a pause. "...you've forgotten something..." Neville had stopped to try and remember what he'd forgotten, when suddenly, "Hey!" Harry grimaced. _Where's Malfoy?_

Realizing what was going on Harry stood, but Professor McGonagall's voice rose over the incident. Satisfied that she would handle it, Harry sat back down to enjoy the rest of his breakfast. 

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry and Blaise met up with Ron and headed down to the flying lesson, meeting the other first year Gryffindors and Slytherins there. It was a warm, breezy day, and the grass hissed around their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees caused the wind to whistle at them a bit. 

Soon, everyone was there, including Madame Hooch, the flying instructor and Quidditch coach. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she barked. " Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up. You, too, Mr. Potter." 

Harry's eyebrows shot up. She wanted him to fly!? "Are you sure, Madame?" 

"Yes, I'm sure." She walked over to him. "Give me your hand." He held up his right hand and she took it and put something in his palm. "This is a whistle, Mr. Potter. When I'm done with you, if you show any talent for flying at all, you should be able to navigate on a broom, provided you don't move too quickly. But the first part of the lesson won't require any of that. You'll just be getting hold of your broom and hovering a bit." 

Still a bit unsure, Harry said, "Okay." 

Blaise guided Harry into position next to one of the school brooms. "Sorry 'bout this, mate." 

"It's all right. Not like you knew anything about it." Harry nervously collapsed his cane and stuck it in a pocket. 

Malfoy seemed nervous as he said, "Potter? What're you doing?" 

He shrugged. "Madame Hooch wants me to try it." Harry shook himself, getting rid of the nervousness. After all, he could only try. 

Madame Hooch was ready for them. "Now, stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'" 

"UP!" everyone shouted. 

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Madame Hooch walked up and down the rows, correcting seats and grips as she went. Several sniggers had to be hidden when Malfoy was told that his grip had been wrong for years. 

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down my leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two --" 

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madame Hooch's lips. 

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork out of a bottle. Harry heard it when Neville's frightened whimpering started getting closer and he knew that the boy had fallen. A thud and a nasty crack and Neville was on the ground. Harry never heard the broom hit the ground and guessed it must have just kept going. Harry knew that the crack had been a bone before he heard Madame Hooch mutter, "Broken wrist. Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get." 

She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing. You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." And then she led Neville toward the infirmary. 

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump." All the Slytherins but Harry and Blaise joined in. 

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Harry. 

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy Parkinson was one of the Slytherin girls, and she was just as bad as Malfoy. "He's just a fat little cry-baby." 

"Have you ever broken a bone? Do you have any idea how bloody much it hurts? Shut your hole, Parkinson!" 

"Look!" said Malfoy, and Harry heard him moving quickly across the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." 

The Remembrall. "Give it here, Malfoy. I'll see that it gets back to him." 

The sneer was heavy in the other Slytherin's voice. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find -- like up a tree!" 

Harry didn't waste anymore words, but Malfoy was already in the air. Morag MacDougal shouted at him to get his arse on the ground before Hooch came back. Harry put the whistle Hooch had given him between his teeth and got himself onto his broom. 

Blaise, Ron and Hermione surrounded him. Hermione said, "Not a good idea, Harry." He ignored her, and blew the whistle. No good. Too many soft bodies around him. He needed an echo. He had realized what Madame Hooch intended for him to learn: echo location. Bats used it. They might not be able to see, as they were a night creature and meant for a time when good eyesight meant nothing, but they could still catch their prey midair and they didn't crash into things either. He took a deep breath around the whistle, then tightened his mouth down and blew out in a long, controlled breath. Then he kicked off from the ground. 

It was amazing how clear a mental picture he could get from pure sound! He could almost see the way the sound moved through the air. It was exhilarating! This he could do, no teaching necessary. It was like he belonged in the air! He could see through the sounds coming back to him! And he could see exactly where Malfoy was parked in the air, watching him. 

As he came level with Malfoy, he ran out of breath. _I'll have to see if I can get the whistle charmed._ He took it out of his mouth and focused on the problem at hand. "Give it here, Draco. I don't want to hurt you, but I will. You're being an insufferable prat to everyone in this school, and it's only a matter of time before someone has to take you down. You've got to stop before it gets to that point." 

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but he seemed worried. "My father would--" 

"Stop trying to hide behind Daddy. He's not here, and before he could get anywhere near you, you could be a broken heap on the ground. I'm not threatening you, but you've got to realize that, and there's no Crabbe or Goyle up here to save your neck, either. Stop being such a pain in the arse!" 

"Fine. Catch, Potter!" Harry heard the Remembrall whistling through the air. He focused on it and his hand came up just in time to keep the little ball from hitting him in the head. "Whoa!" 

Harry put the Remembrall in his pocket, trying to ignore the stinging in his palm, and said, "Get on the ground, Malfoy, before we both get expelled." 

Speechless, Malfoy did as he was told. And just in time, too. Seconds after the boys had landed and dismounted their brooms, Madame Hooch came back out. The flying lesson continued without a hitch, no one speaking of what they'd seen. No one wanted Harry to get into trouble for it, and that's what would happen if they tried to get Malfoy in trouble, so they were silent. Only Hermione, who held the rules to be unbreakable, might have said something, but she wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, and she held her piece. 

Madame Hooch took Harry aside while the others were practicing to get him started. It turned out that the whistle was already charmed to sound continuously if he told it "Blow!" It was amazing how much detail he could get from the sounds. It probably wasn't quite as good as sight, nor did he get any kind of color information, but it was still magnificent. And somehow, he knew that this wasn't the end of it. Once he got the hang of finding information in the echoes around him, he just knew that he would be able to do this from normal everyday sounds. The flying coach had no idea of the gift she had given him. He almost had his sight back!

* * *

_Reviews please! _


	7. Halloween

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: Thanks for all your reviews! They're very encouraging. 

I know I said that I said this will eventually be H/D, but I must stress the word eventually_. After all, they're only eleven at this point. I intend to go through all seven years, and their story will be a gradual, natural progression from adversaries to aquaintances to friends to lovers. They have to grow up first. And I'll be treating Quidditch differently. You'll have to read the chapter to find out on that one. _

Thanks again for reviewing!

* * *

**As A Bat**

Halloween

The next morning Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione seemed very cross with each other. The red-headed Gryffindor told Blaise and Harry after breakfast what had happened the previous night. Apparently they had accidentally gotten into the third-floor corridor on the right side, and found a huge three-headed dog guarding it, barely escaping with their lives and getting back to their dorms before curfew. Hermione had told Ron that the thing had been standing on a trap door, obviously guarding its contents, but she was more concerned with the possibility of being expelled if their accidental infraction was discovered than what might lay beneath the trap door. 

The story set the wheels in Harry's head working. If the thing Hagrid had pulled out of vault 713 had been so valuable that it had been in such a high security vault, which Harry was sure they were the same, the coincidence was too great, then under the feet of that great beast was likely the best place in the school for it. What was it that it was so valuable, and who wanted to steal it? And if a Gringott's high security vault hadn't stopped them, what made Dumbledore think that a dog would, no matter how huge or how many heads? It worried him, and he wasn't really sure why. 

Things had started to go smoothly for Harry at school. He was doing well in all of his classes, especially Herbology, which was his favorite subject. He loved plants, and he was patient enough to wait for them to grow, which was the problem many people had with it. So many wizards were used to instant gratification that they'd much rather just order what they needed rather than grow it themselves. He had several things growing in the greenhouse that weren't part of the normal curriculum, including a Serpent's Hutch for Richard to live in and not worry about the more aggressive plants in the garden. Harry had also warned Professor Sprout about the little snake so that she wouldn't try to oust him from her greenhouse. 

He was even doing well in Potions, even if he had to deal with his head of house more than he'd prefer. As he'd told Snape before, he did have four other senses and an excellent memory. He made combination labels for all of his potions and ingredients, the top in English and the bottom in Braille. That ensured that he would not mix his ingredients up while he was brewing potions and that no one would get the wrong bottle if he asked for something. He was able to feel whether or not his scales were balanced when he was measuring out the ingredients. And he could tell from scent if something was wrong with his potion -- or anyone else's for that matter. It truly annoyed Snape that he was doing so well, but the man refused to show favoritism in his grading, one way or another, so Harry's grades were still good, and he was actually thankful to the snarky git. 

He continued his flying lessons with Madame Hooch, who was training him to use any sound for echo location, not just his whistle. The whistle had the advantage of distance, as its sound would travel much farther, but he couldn't very well be blowing the thing in class when people were trying to study. It was amazing what a world she'd opened up for him. If he learned nothing else from his time at Hogwarts, flying and echo location had made the experience worth while. 

Harry learned a lot about controlling his magic in Charms class. Professor Flitwick had gotten over his original shock and now treated him just like any other student, to Harry's great relief. He showed Harry how to focus through his wand and how to find his magical center and calm it. The day he achieved that, Harry felt like something important had slipped back into place after having been dislocated for some time. He had been jolted into magical awareness at a very early age thanks to the curse which had scarred him, and that early activity had supercharged his magic in order to help compensate for his lack of sight. This was why he would do wandless magic when he was frightened or angry, and why it was so much more active in him than in other children his age. Now he would be able to go through his school life and grow in power without loosing all control over it. And he could still use wandless magic on purpose if he wanted, something that was rather rare. 

Transfiguration was still very hard for him. Every transfiguration spell Professor McGonagall had ever heard of involved visualizing both the object you were transfiguring and the object you were changing it into. It wasn't that Harry wasn't able to perform the spells; he just had no frame of reference to work with. It was one of Harry's yearmates, Morag MacDougal, who came up with the solution. She was getting rather good at transfiguration, and one day in class she said, "Why don't you visualize how it sounds when you do that echo location thing? You did say it was almost like seeing, didn't you?" 

Harry had just paused for a moment. If he hadn't been blind, he'd have stared at her in amazement. Why hadn't he thought of that? "That just might work!" Harry told his whistle to blow and concentrated on the sounds that were reflected back to him from the goblet that Morag had just completed. He turned to the block of wood in front of him and did the same, and then he concentrated and performed the spell. He grinned when the two sonic images mirrored each other perfectly. 

As Harry shut his whistle off, Professor McGonagall applauded. "Well done, Mr. Potter! You only made one mistake on this, and given the circumstances, I think that's perfectly acceptable." 

Harry frowned. "What mistake is that, Professor?" 

There was a gentle smile in the older witch's voice. "Your goblet is completely black. Actually rather striking if it were to be part of a dinner set. Silver flatware and a white tablecloth along with a jet black dinnerware set. I think I'll try that in my dining room over the summer." 

But Harry's frown didn't go away. Nothing he ever transfigured would have color, unless that color was intrinsic in the item, such as gold being gold colored and silver being silver colored. Their color was a property of their atomic composition. But a stoneware goblet could have any color glaze. Including black. Cloth would be black, wood would be black, even the fur of animals once he got that far would be black. He couldn't do it any other way. Because he didn't know what color was, and because his world was dark. No light could penetrate his kind of blackness. 

Morag said, "Don't let it bother you, Harry. Transfiguration is always affected by the individual's world view. For example, my goblet came out as stoneware, and so did yours because you were using mine as an example. But Hermione's was silver and Professor McGonagall's was crystal. Two different people might transfigure a horse from a boulder using the same spell, and one will come out sorrel while the other's comes out bay or palomino. It's all a matter of the person's individuality. And if everything you do is black, then people will just know that it was you who did it. It won't seem strange. It's not really a mistake at all." 

Professor McGonagall said, "Miss MacDougal is quite correct, Mr. Potter. I should not have said it was a mistake. Transfiguration is often a reflection of personality. It is as much art as science, as everyone sees the world differently." 

Harry resolved not to let his lack of color get to him. It was Halloween, and he had resolved to enjoy the day, as he always had for some reason. He knew that was the anniversary of his parents death, but it couldn't dampen his enjoyment. As was his tradition, he'd lit a candle for them in his dormitory that morning and left it burning. He couldn't see the flame, but he could feel the heat when he was near it, and that had always been enough for him. He would then indulge in all the celebrations of the day. At the orphanage on Mung Street, he and the other boys would get candy, which they never did on any other day, and they would be allowed to sit up 'till all hours telling ghost stories. He imagined that Halloween here would be far better. 

And he wasn't disappointed. Even before Harry walked into the Great Hall, he could hear them. Bats, thousands of them, all over the hall. They covered every surface and flitted through the air, making their high-pitched squeaks. Because of their racket, Harry had no trouble hearing everything on the table, and even though he couldn't see the color, he was very happy with it. 

During the Halloween feast, he heard the gossip that Hermione Granger had been insulted by Ron and was in the girl's bathroom crying. Harry frowned, wondering if Draco wasn't the only one who needed to start apologizing to people. Why did they have to act like prats? Both of them could be very good wizards if they'd just shut their mouths. 

Harry wanted to talk to Ron, but he knew he'd have to wait until they were out of the Hall because he had to be at the Slytherin table and Ron had to be at the Gryffindor table. 

He was listening to Blaise tell some silly story about a ghost getting itself stuck in a closet when he heard someone running. It was Professor Quirrel, and he was screaming, "Troll! Troll -- in the dungeon!" There was a funny kind of pause, and then he quietly said, "Thought you ought to know," and collapsed with a thud to the ground. 

For a moment there was complete silence, save for the bats, then everyone started shouting. It took a couple of mild explosions in the air to get everyone's attention, and then Dumbledore calmly took control of the situation. "Everyone will please remain calm. Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately." 

As Higgs started people moving, Harry grasped Blaise's arm. "Blaise, get me to Ron." 

"What?" 

"Hermione'd been in the girl's bathroom all afternoon crying because of something she said to him. She doesn't know about this." 

"Bloody -- you sure you're not a Gryffindor in disguise?" 

Harry just grinned. They made their way in all the confusion to where Ron was trying to keep up with his housemates. "Ron!" 

"Harry? What --" 

"Where's Hermione?" 

"They said she was in the bathroom." 

"Then she doesn't know about the troll. We've got to get to her." 

Knowing he'd been the one who set her crying in the first place, Ron could only agree. But Blaise elected to worry about his own skin and left Harry with Ron. "Be careful, guys." 

The two headed for the girl's bathroom. They had just turned a corner when they heard footsteps behind them. "Percy!" They ducked around a column to hide. 

But it wasn't Percy. Harry would know that gait anywhere. "No, it's Snape. Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?" 

"Search me." 

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps. 

"He's heading for the third floor. And what is that smell?" It was a foul stench, like a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean. And then they heard it -- a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Harry pinpointed the sound as coming from the end of a passage to the left, and it was moving toward them. They shrank back to hide. Then Harry heard Ron's breath hitch. He whispered, "Troll?" 

"Yeah." 

The stench was awful, and it seemed to pervade the entire corridor. Along with the sounds of its movement was a wooden scraping that Harry couldn't identify. 

Ron said, "He's going in that door up there." They waited, wondering what to do when they heard a wooden crash and a high-pitched scream of fear. "Oh no!" 

"Hermione!" they said together. 

It was the last thing they would have wanted to do, but they ran for the bathroom door. They knew if they didn't then the girl was toast. Harry flung the door open, and Ron had to dodge to avoid getting hit with it. Harry wasn't planning on wasting time. He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing, and he'd use any means necessary, to a point, to get what he wanted, which in this instance was Hermione's safety. He already had his wand out, knowing it would be a much better weapon than his cane, which he was accustomed to using to defend himself and others. He grasped his whistle as they went in and shouted "Blow!" The charm obeyed him immediately, allowing him to hear the room with greater efficiency. "Hermione!" 

"She's under the sinks!" 

Harry moved toward the frightened girl, but apparently the noise from the whistle was annoying the troll, and he had identified Harry as the source of it. Harry leapt out of the way as the beast swung his club right for him. "Hermione, move!" He prayed that she would take advantage of the troll's distraction and get herself out of harm's way. Trolls hated loud noises, and he was providing plenty of volume with his whistle. 

But the girl was too frightened to move. "Ron, I'll keep him distracted. You get her out of there. Now!" 

The troll spotted the other boy as he moved toward Hermione and swung for the sinks, barely missing the both of them. Harry did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed hold of his magical center and grasped at any loose object he could find, chunking it at the troll with speed enough to hurt even this thick-skinned creature. The beast howled in pain, swinging the club without aiming, smashing the occasional flying tile or bit of wood or glass with deadly force, but no real intent. Trolls weren't the brightest creatures. 

Finally, Ron had one too many close encounters with the huge chunk of wood and pulled his own wand, crying out the first spell that came to his mind. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ And he did it correctly, as he had not in class, which had led to his argument with Hermione in the first place. The troll's club came out of his hand and rose in a graceful arc before falling -- onto it's owner's bewildered head. The troll swayed on the spot then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble. 

Harry was shaking and out of breath as he allowed the broken bits of bathroom fall where they were. People never realized how much effort that took, especially when he was directing each individual flight path and throwing the pieces with as much force as he could manage. As a weapon, it needed work. As a distraction, it was ideal. And he definately needed to practice so he would not become exhausted every time he used wandless magic. And as he caught his breath, he knew that he would need to keep that practicing as secret as possible. He just wasn't sure why. It was intuition, and he never ignored it. Such feelings had saved him from more than one beating at the hands of the orphanage bullies. 

Hermione was the first to speak, save for Harry telling his whistle to stop. "Is it -- dead?" 

Harry shook his head, hearing the troll breathing. "No, just knocked out. Good job Ron." 

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps alerted them to the arrival of the teachers. Harry only then realized that they had been loud enough for those searching for the troll downstairs to hear them. Professor McGonagall's gasp and Professor Quirrell's fearful whimper were the first things he heard from them. 

Professor McGonagall had never sounded so angry. "What on earth were you thinking of?" she said, cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories?" 

Snape was the unidentified teacher. "Well, Potter?" _Great. He already hates me. Now he'll have an excuse to punish me._

Then a small voice came out of the shadows. "Please, Professors -- they were looking for me." 

"Miss Granger!" 

Hermione had finally managed to get to her feet. "I went looking for the troll because I -- I thought I could deal with it on my own -- you know, because I've read all about them." Ron and Harry were shocked. Hermione, the girl who held the rules to be sacred, was telling an outright lie to a teacher? "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry was throwing things at it to distract it and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived." 

Harry kept his battle mask up, which no one he'd ever met, so far, could read any emotion through. He only prayed that Ron could keep a straight face. 

"Well -- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?" 

Hermione was silent. 

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses." 

Something was tickling Harry's nose. "Hermione, were you hurt? I smell blood, and it's not coming from that troll." 

The girl sounded confused. "No, Harry." 

"What about you, Ron?" 

"No. And you don't seem to be bleeding either. You're smelling things, mate." 

Harry frowned. His nose had never failed him before on such a matter. Oh well. It was a rather minor mystery. Hermione left the destroyed bathroom, and Professor McGonagall addressed the two boys. "Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win five points for your houses. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go. Harry, do you need a guide?" 

"Very well." 

Hermione was waiting for them just outside. "Thank you both for coming after me." Then she walked away. 

Harry smiled at her retreating footsteps. As the Slytherin dungeons used the same flight of stairs as Gryffindor tower, Harry and Ron walked together for a time. It was a relief to be away from the stench of the troll, quite apart from anything else. Ron spoke quietly as they walked. "Good of her to get us out of trouble like that." 

"What did you say that had her in there in the first place?" 

Ron mumbled, then seemed to realize it. "We had just gotten out of Charms. She was the only one to do _Wingardium Leviosa_ correctly, and she was trying to correct me on how I was doing it. I got annoyed with her, and when I was walking with Dean Thomas, I called her a nightmare and said it was no wonder she didn't have any friends. She was right behind us." 

"Ouch. You've got to stop insulting people just because you don't like them or something they've done. Your mouth is going to get you into some serious trouble one of these days. You did the same thing on the train, laughing at Malfoy's name." 

"But he's Malfoy! He's a bloody prat!" 

"You know that now, but did you then? And haven't you given him plenty of reason?" 

Ron stopped talking, thinking about what Harry had said. Then he sighed. "I guess you're right. And Hermione certainly didn't deserve what I said to her. I'll apologize to Hermione. But I won't apologize to Malfoy. He'd never accept it." 

"You need to watch your temper, though." 

There was a light pause that might have been a shrug. "What can I say? I'm a red-head." 

Harry smirked. "Doesn't mean a bloody thing to me." 

Ron snorted. "No, I guess it wouldn't." 

They reached the staircases and separated, Ron going up and Harry going down. Once Harry reached the Slytherin dorms, he was instantly accosted by Blaise. "Harry! What the hell happened to you? You look like hell!" 

Harry laughed. "Thanks!" 

Blaise laughed, too. "Sorry, mate, but you do. And what in god's name is that stench?" 

"Let's just say I hope you never meet a mountain troll. The smell is a fate I wouldn't wish on anyone but Voldemort."

* * *

By the next morning, the entire school knew about the encounter with the troll, and even though Harry was very careful to give full credit to Ron for knocking the beast out, everyone seemed to ignore that and believe that it was he who had defeated it. It annoyed Harry, to say the least. People seemed to have set him on a pedestal, and he was afraid of what would happen when he fell off of it. He was a Slytherin. It was inevitable at some point, if only because he didn't actually care what they thought of him. He only cared what they would do about it. 

Hermione became his friend after that, as well as Ron's. There were just some things that you couldn't go through together and continue to hold on to petty differences. Facing and defeating a twelve-foot mountain troll was one of them. They all knew that they'd barely escaped death that evening. Harry thought it was ironic that he'd nearly died on the anniversary of his parents' murder. 

As the first game of the Quidditch season drew nearer, Harry thought it might be interesting to test his flight skill against one of the players. He knew of Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor team captain, and thought he was probably the best player in the school, but the house rivalries were the worst amongst the Quidditch teams, and he thought better of asking him, so he asked Fred and George. He didn't ask any of his own house's team members because they were all being huge prats about the game, even Higgs, who was by far the most level-headed of the players on Slytherin's team. 

The little practice matches were not full team matches. They only had the quaffle and one bludger, and either Fred or George would sit out, playing referee, with Blaise, Morag, Ron and Hermione watching. Some times others would come, but all of them had to threaten people from both Slytherin and Gryffindor to keep their beaks shut about the house rivalry. The twins were well known for pranking people, and they could be bloody vicious about it if they wanted. And Harry was just plain scary. It was just a part of who he was. 

Harry used the matches to perfect his skills, and so did the Weasly twins. And Harry could prove to be quite a workout for either of them. Things came to a head over it, though, when Draco showed up at one of the matches. Three minutes into the match, the other Slytherin shouted, "Traitor!" 

Harry batted the bludger that was coming at him aiming directly for Draco. The boy squeaked and leapt out of the way, landing on his butt. The wild ball smashed into the earth where he had been standing. Harry flew in a tight dive and then pulled up in a sudden stop right over Draco. "Traitor, am I? This is just a friendly match, one meant to increase my skill. I chose Fred and George because they wouldn't make a big deal over houses and they weren't too busy worrying about the game to give me the time of day, which everyone on Slytherin team was. But, by all means, why don't you get on a broom and we'll make it a fair match? Two on two, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor." Draco said nothing for a moment. Harry turned around. "Fred! George! What do you say to a little more of a challenge here?" 

"Damn you, Potter. Now I have to play, or they'll think me a coward." Harry smirked. "All right. I'll play your game." 

"Good. If we're both playing against them, I can't be a traitor, can I?" 

Draco snorted. "Snitch?" 

"Yeah. We'll switch off being Seeker." 

"Fine." 

Harry was magic on a broom, but Draco had been following the game for a very long time, and he knew quite a few tricks. Neither was solely responsible for their victory against the Weasly twins. They played three matches that Saturday. The Slytherins won the first match when Draco caught the Snitch. The Gryffindors won the second when Fred caught it. 

It was the third and final match when Harry started having a problem. One minute he'd pinged the Snitch and was hurtling towards it, closely followed by George, when his broom suddenly started acting up. It bucked wildly, up and down, back and forth, as if it were a wild animal that strongly objected to having him on its back. The game came to a screeching halt as all three other players set aside their differences to keep Harry from being thrown, Draco grabbing the stick end, Fred going for the back end and George going for Harry to make sure that if he did fall he could be caught. Harry would have grabbed George for support, but the broom bucked again and he was thrown forward into Draco, causing both Slytherins to hurtle toward the ground. Luckily they weren't very far up, only a couple of yards by that point, but it still hurt hitting the ground. And when he sat up, he had the Snitch in his hand. 

Harry knew that someone had been messing with his broom, but he had no way of knowing who it was. "Who jinxed the broom, Draco? Did you see them?" 

"I don't know. We've drawn quite an audience. It could be any one of a hundred different people." 

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Someone just tried to kill me, Draco. They're going to find out just how the son of two Gryffindors got into Slytherin if they try it again, you just better believe it." 

"I do. You're bloody scary when you want to be, Harry." 

"Good." 

But no one had seen who had jinxed the broom, though everyone agreed that was what it was, including Professor Snape, who had happened by and stopped to watch the final match of the day, and Professor Quirrel, who was an avid fan of the game and had watched all three matches. Ron quietly evinced his opinion that it had been Snape who'd tried to kill Harry, but he disagreed. After all, why would his own head of house, whether he hated him or not, seek to murder him? It didn't make any sense. "But Harry, Hermione and I saw him." 

"He's right, Harry. He wouldn't take his eyes off you and he was mumbling something. You have to keep your eyes on the target to use a jinx." 

"Or a counter jinx." Hermione quieted. Harry was right and she knew it. Snape could have been trying to save him rather than kill him. 

Harry had noticed, however, that the professor was limping, and he wondered if whatever ailed the Potions Master might not be the source of the blood he'd smelled on Halloween night. A few facts started to click together in his head. The three headed dog on the third floor. The troll had likely been a ruse for someone to take a crack at whatever the dog was guarding. Snape was no fool, and he'd realized this, so he'd gone to head them off and gotten bit by the dog. He didn't think it would be a student, as it would need to be someone very skilled indeed. But that left the teachers, and who among the teachers of this school would attempt to steal what it's headmaster had brought here for safe keeping? 

He went to Hagrid later that afternoon and talked to him about his concerns. Hagrid's first question was "How do you know about Fluffy?" 

_"Fluffy?"_

"Yeah -- he's mine -- I bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year --I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the --" 

"Yes?" Harry hoped he'd tell him about the object. 

"Now don't ask me any more. That's top secret, that is." 

"But I think someone's trying to steal it! And Snape --" 

"It isn't Snape. He'd never try and kill a student!" 

"I know that, but he knows there's someone trying to steal this thing too. They made one try for it all ready and Snape went to stop them, and he got bit by your dog. That's why he's limping and that's why I smelt fresh blood on Halloween night." 

"Now you listen to me, Harry -- you're meddlin' in things that don't concern ye. You forget about that dog and forget about what he's guardin'. That's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel --" Harry said nothing. "I shouldn't have said that." He sounded furious with himself. 

Hagrid wouldn't tell him, but Harry intended to find out. Who was Nicholas Flamel and where had he heard that name before?

* * *

_Well, there's the next chapter. Now I get to figure out how to deal with that blasted mirror. Any suggestions? Review please! _


	8. Erised

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. Just a little note, here; if you are interested in Braille, there's a very good website connected with the American Foundation for the Blind called the Braille Bug. It's intended for kids, but it has a simple printable alphabet at this address. The only thing it doesn't mention is that if you have a word that is all caps, you put two of the capital cell in front of the word. 

Enjoy the story!

* * *

**As A Bat**

Erised

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasly twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. Richard had to go into hibernation, his Serpent's Hutch thickening to provide him protection from Scotland's bitter winter. Harry would miss him over the frozen months, but he always came back in the spring, and he had Hedwig, who was perfectly at home in this kind of weather, to talk to. 

No one could wait for the Holidays to start. While the common rooms and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons. 

Before the Quidditch match, Malfoy might have taken the opportunity to taunt Harry about his orphaned status and the fact that he had no home to go to over the hols, but the experience had jarred him somewhat. It was one thing to not like someone, even if they were in your own house, but quite another to have one of your housemates nearly killed right in front of you, whether you liked them or not. He was irritable, and not quite sure what to think, which left him snappish. Harry had warned Ron not to provoke him as all of his odd feelings were likely to get thrust upon the first easy target they found. 

Ron, Fred and George, it turned out, would be staying at the school, along with a handful of other students, as their parents had decided to take Ginny and go visit Charlie in Romania. Blaise was staying, though he wouldn't tell Harry why, only joking that he was sticking around to keep Harry out of trouble. "Me? Trouble?" He said it so innocently, Blaise had to laugh. 

"Yeah, you. Once you've got a full handle on your magic, you're going to be worse that the Weasly twins." Harry only grinned. While he wasn't one for pulling anything malicious, he'd thought the snowball trick was pure genius and wondered aloud how they'd done it. He was becoming known for pranking people just to cheer them up. A good laugh could do someone wonders. 

As Harry, Blaise and Ron came up stairs from Potions one morning, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them, respectively, that Hagrid was behind it. 

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches. 

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron." 

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasly? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts?" 

Harry spun round and kept Ron from diving at Malfoy. He shook his head and whispered "Snape." No one else had heard him, but sure enough, a bare moment later he came up the stairs. 

"Is there a problem here?" 

Harry said, "No sir. Draco's just trying to get past all of us." 

"Well, then, why don't you all get out of the middle of the corridor?" 

Harry focused all his attention on Draco, reminding the spoiled Slytherin of what he'd seen in the dead eyes behind those shades on the train. He took discretion as the better part of valor and didn't deface the tree in passing as he'd considered doing. 

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Draco's back, "one of these days I'll get him --" 

"One of these days I'm going to tie the two of you together, shove you in a broom closet, and put three different kinds of silencing charms and three different locking charms on it. Then I'm going to leave you in there for the whole weekend! You're both getting on my nerves with your constant bickering." Harry sighed. "You two go on to the Hall, Ron, Blaise. There's something I want to look up in the library." 

Harry was still trying to find the name Nicolas Flamel, but he was meeting with no success. He couldn't remember precisely what he'd read or where he'd read it. In fact, he wasn't sure whether he'd read it or heard it. But he knew he had to find out what significance that man had to the object Fluffy was guarding. 

At first, it had all been about a mystery, and Harry loved a mystery, couldn't bare to see one go without someone trying to solve it. He'd worry at a puzzle until he'd completed the thing, just by the feel of the edges of the pieces, which freaked out old Jack, the gardener at the orphanage. But now it was more than that. Someone had tried to kill him, and he had no plans of taking that threat lightly. Somehow, he just knew that the murder attempt was connected to whomever was trying to steal this thing. It was worth killing to them, and they saw him as a threat. That meant it was likely someone who had seen his power get out of hand, and there was no telling who that could be. His control was so much better since he got his wand that it was a very rare occurence. It narrowed the list, but he still couldn't be sure of who it might be. All he knew was that Nicolas Flamel was part of that mystery, and if he wanted to find out who was trying to kill him, then he would have to solve the mystery. 

He had finally involved his friends in the mystery after the attempt on his life. Blaise, Ron, Morag and Hermione had followed his reasoning easily and were well aware of Harry's power. The entire school knew about how the troll had been dealt with, even if they did tend to think that Harry had been the victor rather than Ron, and that was really what made the whole thing so vexing. The person they were trying to unmask hadn't tried to kill Harry until after Halloween, so it was very possible that they had only then realized what a threat he might be to their plans. Wandless magic, even in its infancy as it was with Harry, was a very real danger to anyone facing it, for the very reason that it was so bloody unpredictable, to the caster and their opponent. If Harry were to become angry, major damage could be done to a person's body before they had a prayer of knocking him out. 

The three of them had been helping Harry with his research, and they had been all over the library, driving Madame Pince, the librarian, batty, but still they had found nothing, mostly because they weren't sure where to begin. What might Flamel have done to get himself into a book? He wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_; he was missing, too, from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_, and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_. And then of course there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows. 

Just before lunch was due to be served, Harry had just translated another volume when Madame Pince managed to sneak up behind him, something only predators and librarians were capable of. He just about jumped out of his skin when she touched his shoulder and a couple of books jumped with him, but they settled down quietly, an achievement for Harry. 

"Sorry, boy. What are you looking for?" 

"Not really sure," said Harry. 

"Then off with you. You'll miss the food. Go on -- out! I'm dusting, and I don't want you getting in the way." 

Harry smirked, knowing the kindly old woman was fond of him because he liked her books rather than because he was "The Boy Who Lived" and she was truly concerned with his welfare, having remarked when she didn't think he could hear her that she thought he was too thin. "You're all heart," he teased. 

"Scoot!" 

He wished he could tell Madame Pince what he was looking for, but he wasn't sure who his target was, and he didn't want them overhearing him.

* * *

Once the holidays had started, Ron, Blaise and Harry were having too good a time to worry too much about Flamel. Ron had asked for and gotten permission to stay in the Slytherin dorms with Blaise and Harry, not wanting to be left alone in Gryffindor Tower with his mischievous brothers, preferring to sleep on the plush and comfortable couch in the Slytherin common room. They all concentrated on having as much fun as possible, which included things like plotting how to pull pranks on Snape and get away with it and trying to beat Fred and George at their own game. It was fun to talk about, even if none of it would work. 

They had a constant tournament of wizard chess going in the common room, with three different boards being maintained as they all played each other. Harry knew himself to be a decent player, his excellent memory standing him in good stead, and Blaise wasn't bad either. It was never certain which of them was going to win a game between them, but Ron was superior to both. He'd yet to loose to either one of them, being a superb strategist. 

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not really expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, it was to the hooting of Hedwig as she dropped things on his bed. "Well, well. Looks like I've got presents after all." 

Grumbling issued from the bed next to him. Blaise said, "What'd you expect, rocks?" 

"Let's go get Ron and open all these things together." 

After the other Slytherin agreed, Harry grabbed his wand, put on his shades and levitated his gifts, walking out of the room with the objects trailing behind him. He laughed when Blaise called out, "Show off!" 

Harry woke up Ron and the three boys gathered around the fire to open their presents. The first one, on the top of his pile, was from Hagrid. It was wrapped in thick paper with To Harry, from Hagrid dotted onto it in Braille with candle wax. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it -- it sounded a bit like an owl. 

The next one was a rather lumpy parcel. Ron exclaimed, "Oh, no! It looks like you've gotten a Weasly sweater. Open it, Harry. Emerald green with three silver dots on it. What kind of design is that? She usually puts an initial on them." 

Guessing what the woman was up to, Harry took his wand and said, "_Reddo in Engles_." 

"Oh, it's a letter 'H'. It was in Braille?" 

"Yes, or the spell wouldn't have worked. It's based on the user's native written language, which is Braille for me, English for you. If you can read both, you have to specify, like 'Reddo Braille in Engles' or 'Reddo Braille de Engles'." 

There was one other package from Mrs. Weasly, which set Harry's nose to twitching; a large box of homemade fudge. Harry dug right into it, unable to resist the wonderful odor of chocolate. 

Blaise got a new cloak and a silver clasp from his parents, and Ron got a box of Every Flavor Beans from Hermione and his own box of fudge and a sweater from his mother. 

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping the garment, "and mine's _always_ maroon." 

"That's really nice of her." Harry's next present also contained candy -- a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione. This only left one parcel. It was light for the size of it. Very light. He unwrapped it. 

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor. Ron and Blaise both gasped. Blaise said, "I've heard of those!" 

Ron dropped his box of Every Flavor Beans. "If that's what I think it is -- they're really rare, and _really_ valuable." 

"What is it?" 

Harry picked the soft, slick cloth off the floor. It was like water woven into material, cool and fluid, as if it had no grain. 

Blaise said, "Someone's sent you an invisibility cloak!" 

"Go on, try it on." 

So Harry stood and put the cloak about his shoulders. "Well? I don't feel any different." 

There was a major grin in Blaise's voice. "Yeah, but you sure look it, mate! You're like a floating head there!" 

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!" 

"Read it to me." 

**_"'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you.'_** It isn't signed at all." Ron sighed. "I'd give _anything_ for one of these," he said. "_Anything._ What's the matter?" 

"Nothing." Harry felt very strange. Who had sent him the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

* * *

Christmas dinner was a hilarious affair, with magical party favors, Hagrid getting tipsy and coming on to Professor McGonagall, who was just drunk enough to be flattered, and a spectacular feast for so few people. The Weasly twins had insisted that everyone who had received a sweater wear it, which neither Percy nor Ron appreciated but Harry took in good faith. After all, it was rare for him to receive gifts of any kind, and he wanted to show his gratitude. Later there was a massive snowball fight out on the grounds, everyone in the school but Filch, Quirrell and Snape getting involved. Harry had not allowed any of the other professors to be exempt, forcing the issue by smashing them with wet snow if they tried to escape the battle. He was amazingly accurate, and he never used his magic to accomplish it, only the sounds of his whistle, and he was very good at not getting hit himself. 

That night, though, as Ron and Blaise settled in to sleep, Harry couldn't. Something kept niggling at the back of his mind. The cloak. It had belonged to his father, a man that he had never known and would never meet. The note had only said to use it well. He just had to try it out! But it was after hours. He wanted to go roaming the halls, but how to do that without getting caught? He couldn't use his whistle or his cane; both would give him away in an instant. Others might not gain the level of detail he did from sound, but that didn't mean that they were deaf. Still, it put everyone else on his level, and he was much more used to it. 

He considered his actions carefully, knowing that he would still be vulnerable to Mrs. Norris. An animal wouldn't have any trouble knowing that he was there, thanks to their other senses, just as he would know if someone were invisible around him. He knew the layout of the school well enough to not get lost now, but if he was running, he would need to have the cane handy. He decided he wouldn't worry about silence if he was running all out. And if worse came to worse, he would hex the cat, something small and annoying that would distract her just enough to let him get away. A hair growth charm would work quite nicely, as she would trip over the hair and it was easily solvable with a nice trim. 

Harry got up, deciding to head for the library. He would be able to read as long as he liked and no one would be the wiser. He wouldn't have to worry about a lantern as another student would, one more advantage he would have in this little expedition. He put his collapsed cane and his wand in his pocket, then went to the foot of his bed and silently opened the lid of his trunk, finding the smooth, light-as-air material with ease. 

Blaise rolled over in his sleep, making slight noises as he did so. Should he bring Ron and Blaise with him? But no. This first time, he wanted to do it alone. There would be plenty of other times to bring his friends along with him. 

Harry was in the library for an hour reading about notable wizards of the day when he heard something that nearly made his heart stop. "Mrrrow?" Mrs. Norris! She sounded confused, probably because her ears and nose were telling her something different than her eyes, but that wouldn't stop her for long. He waited for her to leave then high-tailed it. He knew better than to try and make the dungeons before Filch got there, so he looked for one of the doors along the wall that he knew to be an empty classroom. 

Just before he reached it, he heard Filch telling someone that there had been someone in the library. He flinched when it was Snape who answered. "Well, they can't have gotten far. Let's catch them." He was alarmed at how close they were to him. After all, being invisible wouldn't stop one of them from knocking into him. He was no ghost. 

Finally he found the door he was looking for, and praised Heaven that it was ajar. He had no need to worry about them seeing it move as he slipped in, careful not to bump it. 

He waited a while, listening for any sound that might mean they'd discovered his hiding place, but they just continued on past the door. He let the cloak fall to the floor in relief. 

He took his cane out of his pocket and extended it, listening to the echoes it made as it tapped on the stone of the floor. The tapping actually gave him a more accurate picture, now that he knew what to listen for, than his whistle had. The drawn out noise would actually interfere with it's own echo. Not so with the sharp clack of plastic on stone. Just like a bat using a series of high-pitched clicks to navigate by. He wondered idly if he might find something that would click constantly. It would probably be less irritating than the whistle to those around him, as well. 

The walls of the room were stacked with boxy shapes, probably that of unused desks, but there was something else in the room, as well, something tall and flat. Curious, Harry approached the object. His cane made a wooden noise as it struck the foot of it. A frame of some kind? Maybe it was a painting? Harry got nervous. A painting might spill his location to certain nosy caretakers. But no noise came from the object. He ran a hand along the frame and was surprised when the wood _moved_, forming Braille lettering under his hand. 

_(To see the Braille, cut and paste this into your address bar._ ) 

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi._

Harry frowned. It was a different language or a code. No! It was spelled backwards, with weird spacings. _I show not your face but your heart's desire._ What would that mean? Something you would expect to see your face in would be a mirror. Harry touched the glass, confirming that guess for himself. But then something extraordinary happened. He _saw_ something! In shock, he moved back, and the image in his mind disappeared. He quickly put his hands back on the glass, not willing to give up this chance to see something despite his dead eyes. 

They were people, of that he was sure. A man and a woman, and they seemed to be standing behind him, along with several other people. He couldn't be sure how to describe the others, but these two seemed familiar, even though he could never have seen them, unless... 

"Mum? Dad?" There were tears running down the woman's face as she nodded her head, even though she was smiling. The man was smiling too. It had to be them! There was no one else he would have been able to remember seeing! And as he looked beyond them, he noticed similarities in all of them to one of his parents. This was his family! He was seeing them, and seeing, for the first time in his life! 

The Potters and Evanses smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass that was his only link to them, almost hoping that it would suddenly disappear and he would fall into their waiting arms. Even if he could no longer see them, it would be worth it to be with them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness. 

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The images didn't fade from his mind and he looked and memorized them, until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He whispered, "I'll come back," and tore his hands away from the glass, plunged once again into his eternal darkness. Then he hurried from the room.

* * *

"You could have woken us up," said Ron, crossly. 

"You can both come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror." 

"I'd like to see your mum and dad," Blaise said eagerly. 

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weaslys, all the Zabinis. I'll actually get to see what you both look like!" 

"Yeah. Shame about not minding Flamel, though." 

Harry nodded. Yes, that mystery still ate at him somewhat, but it was mostly eclipsed by the wonderful sights he had seen. 

"Harry, why don't you eat something?" Blaise sounded concerned. 

But Harry couldn't eat. He was too wrapped up in the promise that he would once again see his parents that night. Who cared what the three-headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really? 

"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd."

* * *

Only Harry's eidetic memory kept him from fearing that he would not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron and Blaise squeezed under the cloak with him, they had to walk much more slowly that night, but Harry found it quickly, keeping the cold and the oddity of the journey from getting to his companions. "Watch out for that suit of armor. We don't want to alert the cat." 

They pushed the door open and dropped the cloak from their shoulders, letting Harry lead the way to the mirror so that they didn't trip him. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as his hands touched the smooth glass of the mirror. His parents smiles seemed even wider than the night before. "There, can you see them?" 

But Ron said, "No, I only see you." Blaise said nothing. 

Harry frowned. "Why don't you look into it face on? Tell me what you see." 

Reluctantly, Harry took his hands away from the glass and allowed his friend to look. "Do you see your family standing around you?" 

"No -- I'm alone -- but I'm different -- I'm older -- and I'm head boy!" Harry's brow crinkled. "See, Blaise? I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to -- and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup -- I'm Quidditch captain, too!" 

"Blaise?" Something about this was starting to click in Harry's head. 

There was the scuffle of movement as the Gryffindor and Slytherin switched places. "Well?" said Ron. 

"I'm on a broom, but I'm not in a Quidditch match. I'm flying through clear blue skies, and I'm all alone." There was hope in Blaise's voice as he said it. "Do you think that this mirror shows us the future?" 

"How can it?" said Harry with a mournful sigh. "My family are all dead."

* * *

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning. 

"Want to play chess, Harry?" 

"No." 

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?" 

"No...you go..." 

"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight." 

"Why not?" 

"I dunno. It's just weird, that's all." 

Blaise spoke. "Ron's right, Harry. That thing gives me an odd feeling, especially how attached to it you're getting. And it's only a matter of time before Filch or Snape catches you." 

"You sound like Hermione, all gung-ho about the rules." Their insistence was irritating him for some reason. 

"Please, Harry, don't go." 

But Harry couldn't help but want to see his family again. He'd been without them for too long, and neither Ron nor Blaise were going to stop him. 

That third night he found his way with perfect clarity and in good time. He was cautious as a Slytherin should be, however, and was careful to remain stealthy as he went. 

And there they were, as soon as his hands touched the glass. One of the old men had moved closer to the front this night, smiling brightly. Harry sank to the floor, his hands never leaving the smooth, cold surface and never loosing sight of those he was learning to recognize. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all. 

Except -- 

"So -- back again, Harry?" 

Harry felt as thought his insides had turned to ice. He turned his head slightly, listening more intently to the world around him than he had been. The rustle of cloth and the sound of the voice he'd heard told him all he needed to know. Albus Dumbledore was sitting on one of the desks by the wall. Harry must have walked straight past him and never even had a clue that he was there. He realized that he hadn't tapped his cane a single time, never listened to the echoes. What if Mrs. Norris had been in there? 

"I -- I didn't hear you, sir." 

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to hear that he was smiling. "So," said the aging headmaster, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised." Remembering the reversed Braille that had raised itself from the frame on his first encounter with the mirror, Harry just nodded. "I expect you've realized by now what it does?" 

"Not entirely. It shows me my family, as though I could really see them." 

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy, and your other friend Blaise as flying free through clear skies." 

"How did you know --?" 

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible. Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" 

Harry shook his head, wanting the headmaster to tell him himself. 

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?" 

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want, whatever we want most..." 

"Just nearly right. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasly, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. And Blaise Zabini, who has always had his future mapped out for him by his family, whether he wanted it or not, sees himself in a future with endless possibilities that he alone may choose from. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. 

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I must ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever _do_ run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?" 

Harry stood up. "I suppose you're right. I should have known in an instant that there was someone else in this room, but I didn't even check. I was totally distracted." He took one last longing gaze into the mirror, memorizing the faces of his mother and father, before dropping his hand and allowing the return of his customary darkness. "But the Mirror did give me one truth." 

"What's that, Harry?" 

"I know what they look like now. I'll never have to guess at it. I'll always remember." 

There was once again a smile in the aging wizard's voice. "Perhaps it has done some good for you at that."

* * *

_Well, that's it. Sorry it's taken so long. Reviews are appreciated as always! _


	9. Nicolas and Norbert

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: Hooray! Chapter 9 is finally done!

* * *

**As A Bat**

Nicolas And Norbert

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go searching for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Sometimes, late at night, that he wished he'd never entered that room, as he was assaulted by nightmares of his parents disappearing in a flash of light, the same light he'd always seen in his darkest nightmares. Only now, his imagination had something to play with. And the high cackling laughter was always present. 

"I'm glad you listened to Dumbledore on this one, Harry," said Blaise when Harry told him about the dreams. "He said the Mirror could drive you mad, and this is likely one of the ways." 

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of the boys being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row, and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was. 

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even thought Harry was still sure he'd either read or heard the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. 

Harry and Blaise were the only two Slytherins to have access to the Gryffindor common room, just as Ron was the only Gryffindor allowed anywhere near Slytherin, though that was only when it was just Harry and Blaise. No one else would have allowed it. All of Gryffindor had no problems with Harry or Blaise, as both boys went out of their way to ream anyone who tried to choose their friends for them. 

Quidditch was the talk of the room, with all the Gryffs worried that Professor Snape, who had chosen for some odd reason to referee the next match, wouldn't be fair when dealing out points and penalties. Fred and George were both trying to come up with some way to put the man out of commission for the duration of the game, and Harry finally told them to do their plotting where he couldn't hear them. "I want plausible deniability, and that means you two can't be anywhere near me. Don't forget to use a Silencing Charm, either. You know how well I can hear." 

Fred's voice was full of laughter. "Don't worry, mate." 

George finished. "We wouldn't get you into trouble!" 

"Yeah, you and Zabini are the only likeable ones in your house, and we'd kind of like to keep you healthy." 

At that moment, there was a crash. Harry turned defensively toward the sound, but Ron put a hand on his shoulder. "It's Neville. Someone's used the Leg-Locker Curse on him." 

Blaise made a sympathetic noise deep in his throat. "Poor bloke must have had to bunny-hop all the way up the tower." 

Hermione was quick with the countercurse, freeing Neville's limbs and allowing him to get to his feet. "What happened?" she asked him, leading him to a chair so that he could rest his tortured leg muscles. 

"Malfoy." Harry quickly became angry, knowing what was coming. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on." 

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!" 

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled. 

"Neville," Harry started, "You have got to stand up for yourself. Malfoy's used to getting whatever he wants, and he's more than a little irritated right now because that's not happening. If you, among the whole school, stand your ground, he won't know what hit him." 

"You know, Malfoy told me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, and I think he's right." 

"Bollocks." Harry handed him the last Chocolate Frog in the pile they'd had going. "You're worth twelve of him, and I'm his housemate, so I know. The Sorting Hat knows what it's doing, and it put you in this house for a reason." 

Neville's voice seemed a bit lighter as he responded. "Thanks, Harry...I think I'll go to bed...D'you want the card, Ron? You collect them, don't you?" 

Once Neville had gone on up, Ron messed with the card. "Dumbledore again. How many of him am I --" Ron gasped. "It can't be that simple!" 

Harry turned around to face him. "What?" 

"The Chocolate Frog cards, Harry! Remember?" 

"That's it! Read it, Ron!" 

Ron quickly read the back of the card aloud. "'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindewald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, _and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel!_'" 

Hermione jumped to her feet, obviously excited. "Stay there!" she said, and she could be heard running. Harry tracked her progress as she ran up the stairs to the girls dormitory. Then she came back. "I never though to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I checked this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading." 

Ron's incredulous "Light!?" was ignored, Harry and Blaise paying close attention to the genius of Gryffindor. Pages were turned frantically as she searched for the remembered reference. "I knew it! I _knew_ it! Nicholas Flamel is the only know maker of the Philosopher's Stone!" 

"The what?" 

Hermione huffed. "Honestly, Ron, don't you read?" 

Harry, though, had no trouble with knowing exactly what the bushy haired Gryffindor was talking about. "The Philosopher's Stone has been at the center of the study of alchemy for millennia. Even the Muggles know about it, though they believe it only to be a legend. It can turn any metal into pure gold and can produce the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal." 

There was a broad grin in Hermione's voice. "Exactly!" She took out her wand and cast _Reddo_ over the text. "Here, read this paragraph." She guided Harry's hand to the exact passage she wanted him to read. 

_There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

Blaise gave a low whistle. "No wonder someone's trying to steal it. Who wouldn't want a stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying?"

* * *

During the next Quidditch match, Harry decided he'd take a swing 'round the castle on one of the school brooms. Not long after Christmas, Fred and George had experimented with Harry a bit on what noises made the clearest images for him to "see" by. They'd found that he had a much higher threshold than most people. He could hear dog whistles, in fact. Lower sounds, too, made an impression, but it was on his skin rather than his ears, and such was more useful at close range than for navigation. Finally, they'd settled on the sonar of bats, which Harry'd already discovered worked well for him during the Halloween feast. As a late Christmas, they'd given him a charmed pendant of a bat in flight. At the spell _Chiroptero Insonui_, the bat would issue the sounds of its kind. It was amazing just how far and in what detail he could see through the sounds. His "vision" was close to twenty/twenty using the bat at normal volume, and he could lower that volume during classes (except for Potions; Snape wouldn't stand for it) and he could do anything but read English or look at art. 

The sounds were perfect to fly by, and while he couldn't hear quite as well as a bat, the sonar provided him the same navigational accuracy as it gave them. And Harry was born to be on a broom. The twins had told him that his father, James Potter, had been the Gryffindor Seeker in his day, one of the best. It seemed that flying was in his blood. He was only grateful that, through the efforts of Madame Hooch and the Weasly twins, he had discovered just how much of his father's gift was in him. 

He heard the roar of the crowd from the Quidditch pitch, barely able to discern that Slytherin had won the match. Good. From everything he'd heard, Higgs really was an excellent Seeker. Hopefully the older boy would one day be able to play for a professional team. The roar indicated the end of the game, and everyone would be headed to dinner next, but Harry didn't want to give up the feeling of being in the air just yet. 

As he flew, he heard a familiar figure coming swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. The thrill of flight faded from Harry's mind as he listened. He recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner -- what was going on? 

Curiosity got to him, so careful to fly silently, Harry followed Snape as the man passed the tree line. The trees were thick, muffling sounds that might come from inside the forest, so he dove in, careful to listen for branches and animals as he searched for his head of house. Finally, he heard voices and went even lower in the trees, landing himself on the sturdy branch of a towering beech tree. 

Silencing his bat so that he wouldn't be discovered, he climbed carefully along the branch, holding tight to it and the broomstick and listening to the conversation below. It was Snape and Quirrell, the Defense teacher easily recognizable by his stutter, which was worse than ever. Harry listened intently to what they were saying. 

"...d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..." 

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all." 

Harry frowned. Surely he hadn't misjudged Snape that badly. He couldn't be the one after the Stone, could he? 

Quirrell mumbled something, but Snape interrupted him. "Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" 

"B-b-but Severus, I don't--" 

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him. "You know perfectly well what I mean. Don't think I didn't catch your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting." 

"B-but I d-d-don't--" 

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie." 

Cloth swished around and Snape left the clearing. Quirrell was left behind in the forest.

* * *

When Harry finally got back to the castle and entered the Great Hall, he found the Hall in an uproar, boys from Slytherin and Gryffindor at each other's throats. Neville was unconscious, Crabbe and Goyle both on the ground nursing injuries the nervous youth had given them, and Ron and Draco were still at it, Ron with a bloody nose and Draco with a black eye. 

Harry was instantly angry, and he pulled from that anger to fuel his power. He threw the fighters into the wall, and none to gently either. "What the hell is going on in here!?" 

Neither boy said a word. 

Professor McGonagall came up behind them. "A valid question, gentlemen. Although I think we could do without the language, Mr. Potter." 

"Sorry." The others still didn't speak. 

"Very well. Ten points from each person who was fighting. And five points to Mr. Potter for stopping you. Everyone get to your dorms, immediately." Then McGonagall left. 

Harry whipped his shades off his face and glared at Ron and Draco through his dead eyes. "I'm tired of this. You don't have to like each other, but if you don't stop fighting, then it's me you'll be facing! Stay away from the Gryffindors, Malfoy, and learn to ignore him, Weasly. I'm not joking; I'll pound you both into the ground, and I won't be using magic to do it. This foolish rivalry has gone on more than long enough!" Then he stormed over to the Gryffindor table and asked Fred and George if they'd mind him eating with them. 

Fred said, "Sure, mate." 

George finished for him. "But you might want to put your shades on." 

Harry growled. "Sorry. God, those two annoy me!" He replaced his sunglasses and ate the meal in front of him. 

George was grinning. "And boy, are you fun when you're riled!" 

"Noticed you didn't do anything to Neville, though." Fred's grin mirrored his twin. 

"Well, it's about time that one stood up for himself. I'm glad for him."

* * *

That night, Harry told Blaise what he'd overheard in the forest. "Do you think Snape's trying to steal the Stone, Harry?" 

The blind boy shook his head. "No, I don't. I know, he seems like the type, but it just doesn't sound right. He doesn't like me, not at all. But I get the feeling that Slytherin house is as close as anything outside his lab comes to being his pride and joy. If for no other reason than that I'm one of his Slytherins, I don't think he'd kill me. And from that conversation, I'd imagine it's Quirrell who's after the Stone and who tried to kill me. The two things can't be unrelated because I doubt seriously that there's more than one person doing this. Dumbledore might miss one, but not a flock of traitors amidst his teachers." 

Blaise inclined his head. "True. So, let's see what we have so far. If Quirrell's the one after the Stone, then he's bigger stones than anyone's given him credit for. The whole stuttering act is just that, an act." 

Harry nodded. "Which means he was the one who let the troll in on Halloween. A distraction." 

"But then how did Snape get bitten by the dog?" 

"He went to head Quirrell off. Snape is very aware that he's after the Stone. He tried to deny it, but Snape's no fool. He's just giving Quirrell a chance to change his mind." 

Blaise nodded slowly. "Okay. It all makes sense. Now, what do we do about it? Snape won't be happy that you followed him, so I don't think telling him what we know would be a good idea. Besides, he already knows what we know." 

"Yeah, I didn't intend on saying anything just yet, but if we do find something else out, we can drop him an anonymous owl. He'd be stupid to ignore it, so it will at least be investigated." 

"That'll work."

* * *

Spring thaw came and Richard was finally able to come out of hibernation. Harry was glad to welcome him back once he'd gotten out of his grouchy stage and had eaten something, happy to have him to talk to again. He told the little snake about everything that had gone on with the Philosopher's Stone. Richard was concerned that Harry might be getting into something very dangerous. 

"I know. Someone's afraid for some reason that I'm a threat to them. I think it's Quirrell. His lessons teach us nothing of consequence and he stutters, as if he were afraid of everything, but sometimes I just know he's staring at me. And there's something else. He's not alone. He's never alone. Something is with him, but I can't figure it out. It feels like wandless magic, that charge in the air that none of the other students seem to feel." 

Richard thought about it. "Use your nose." 

Harry blinked. "What?" 

"You smell things better than any other human I've ever known. See if you can smell what's different." 

Harry grinned. "That's a very good idea, but I don't think it will work. He keeps garlic everywhere." 

"Then he is most likely hiding something." 

Harry nodded. "You're right. But that's hardly proof, and I plan to have plenty of evidence before I go accusing a teacher of trying to steal something." 

Richard agreed. "Of course. No snake should try to eat something that won't fit in their throat." 

He grinned again. "That's right. We'll leave that up to the lions."

* * *

Easter holidays came closer and Harry, along with everyone else, had to focus more on their studies. Exams were ten weeks away and the teachers piled so much homework on them that Easter wasn't nearly as much fun as Christmas had been. He couldn't really relax, spending half of his free time in the library with his extra work. 

On one such day, the first really fine day they'd had in months, he was doing the same. The air felt like the coming summer, like the time had come to plant his corn in the back garden of the orphanage, like there would no longer be any fear of frost. He was looking up "Dittany" in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, and he didn't pay attention to what was going on around him until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?" 

Harry thought, _Well that was rude._ Assuming Hagrid wouldn't have any reason to be in the library. It was an insult to the man's intelligence! After all, he didn't seem to have any trouble absorbing information, only with keeping it to himself. Easy trust didn't indicate stupidity, only foolishness. 

Hagrid shuffled closer to them. "Just' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got Harry's attention at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He sounded suddenly suspicious as he addressed Harry, Ron, Hermione and Blaise. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?" 

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "_And_ we know what--" 

Harry interrupted. "Ron. Why don't you look up the word discretion for me in the dictionary, hmm?" Honestly, did the boy have to spill just as much information as Hagrid? "Hagrid, I did want to ask you about what _else_ might be guarding a certain thing." 

Hagrid just sighed. "Listen -- come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind. An' don' tell no one 'bout this, either. They'll think I've told yeh --" 

"See you later, then," said Harry. 

Hagrid shuffled off. 

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully. 

Ron said, "Do you think it had anything to do with the -- um, thing?" He remembered Harry's comment about discretion. 

Blaise stood up. "Why don't we go see what section he was in." Blaise and Ron went over to the stacks, Ron following without complaint because he was tired of working. They came back a minute later with a couple piles of books and dropped them onto the table. 

"_Dragons!_" whispered Ron. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide._" 

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him," said Harry. 

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. 

Blaise said, "Yeah. Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlock's Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. Of course, that doesn't mean that everyone is going to follow the law. Several of the richer pureblood families keep smaller species as guards for their properties. You can't really tame dragons, though, which makes keeping them rather dangerous." 

Ron piped up again. "You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania." 

Harry raised an eyebrow. "There are wild dragons in Britain?" 

"Yeah, the Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget." 

Harry remembered a wild story that Mark Summers had told just three years ago about being in the park and seeing this gigantic black and green dragon swooping down on a stray dog. He made a mental note to look through those books and see if it had been such a wild story after all. 

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.

* * *

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, all but Harry were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then he shut the door quickly behind them. 

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused. 

"So -- yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?" 

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy." 

Hagrid frowned at him. "O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts -- I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy." 

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you _do_ know, you know everything that goes on 'round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. "We only wondered who had _done_ the guarding, really." She went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you." 

Harry grinned. _Good work, m'girl._

"Well, I don' s'ppose it could hurt ter tell yeh that...let's see...he borrowed Fluffy from me...then some o' the teachers did enchantments...Professor Sprout -- Professor Flitwick -- Professor McGonagall -- Professor Quirrell -- an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape." 

_"Snape?"_

Harry snorted. "Oh come off it, Ron. I really don't think it's him. He saved my life at that Quidditch practice." But that didn't comfort him as much as it should have. After all, one of the ones who was supposed to be protecting the Stone was Quirrell. He probably could have found out what the other enchantments were easily, with the most likely exceptions of how to get past Fluffy, Snape's spell, and Dumbledore's. "You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you Hagrid?" said Harry. "And you wouldn't tell anyone would you? Not even one of the teachers? After all, someone might overhear you." 

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly. 

"Well good. Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling." 

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. 

Harry noticed that Hagrid's attention seemed distracted. Then he noticed a strange smell in the air, a burnt smell, just slightly sulphuric. "Hagrid -- did you burn some eggs in here?" 

Blaise was the one who spotted it. "Hagrid, why are you hatching that thing inside!?" 

The facts instantly clicked in Harry's mind; all the books Hagrid had been looking at on dragon care. He'd gotten himself a dragon's egg. 

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, who had moved closer to the fire, probably to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune." 

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest." 

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione. 

"Well I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid. Harry could hear shuffling cloth. "Got this outta the library -- _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_ -- it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here -- how ter recognize diff'rent eggs -- what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them." He sounded very pleased with himself. 

Harry felt he had to point something out to the large man. "Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house_." 

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

* * *

So now there was something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut, as well as whether the beast would accidentally kill the person who was taking care of it. Harry just knew that something was going to happen and he wouldn't be able to stay with Hagrid over the summer, namely because the big man or his house would be gone. 

On top of that, they had to wade through the extra homework evening after evening. Hermione had started making study schedules for all the Gryffindors, as well as Harry and Blaise. Harry didn't mind, but it was driving Ron and Blaise nuts. 

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching. 

Ron was all for skipping class and going straight down to the hut, but the other three wouldn't hear of it. "Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to get the chance to see a dragon hatching?" 

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing--" 

"Shut up!" Harry whispered. 

Malfoy, who had taken to wearing a new cologne, was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? 

Ron and Hermione bickered all the way to Herbology. Harry said, "We can run down to Hagrid's during morning break. That's not so unusual that it would draw attention to us." Everyone agreed, and when the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the four of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited. 

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside. 

The egg was lying on the table, There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it as the infant fought it's way free. 

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched (or listened) with bated breath. 

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table with a leathery sound and a squawk. Then it sneezed. Harry felt the heat coming from it when it did. 

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. There was a snapping sound, and Harry thought the infant had probably snapped at Hagrid. "Bless him, look, he knows his mummy.!" 

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "How fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?" 

Hagrid was about to answer when he suddenly gasped -- he leapt to his feet and ran to the window. 

"What's the matter?" asked Harry. 

Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains -- it's a kid -- he's runnin' back up ter the school." 

Harry and Blaise bolted to the door. Harry could smell the cologne and even at a distance there was no mistaking who it was for Blaise. Malfoy had seen the dragon.

* * *

Something about the way Malfoy was so quiet over the next way gave Harry a bad feeling. Two Gryffindors and two Slytherins spent all their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him. Finally, Harry was the one who got through to him. The combined smells of chicken blood, alcohol, and the burnt grape smell of brandy flambé that was the result of the little dragon's furnace all permeated the hut. Thankfully, dragons had remarkably efficient digestion, so they didn't defecate. Any waste products were fuel for the fire, literally. 

Already, Norbert had tripled in length, and he was only a week old. And he was going to keep growing at that rate for at least six months! "Hagrid," reasoned Harry, "give it two weeks and Norbert is going to be as long as your house. And Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment." 

Hagrid bit his lip. "I -- I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him. I can't. He'll die at this stage wi'out proper care." 

Suddenly an idea sparked. "Charlie." 

"I'm Ron, remember?" 

Harry's hand was perfectly aimed for the light swat at the back of Ron's head. "No -- Charlie -- your brother, Charlie. In Romania, studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild! It'll be perfect! That way he can find himself a nice girlfriend when he gets old enough." Blaise sniggered. 

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?" 

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

* * *

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and Harry sitting alone in the Gryffindor common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. Blaise had remained in Slytherin that night, trying to stave off Malfoy with questions on his Potions homework. Ron was down with Hagrid helping to feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate. 

Suddenly the portrait hole opened and Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. "It bit me!" He showed them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby." 

There was a tap on the window pane from an owl's beak. "That'll be Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer." 

The three of them put their heads together to read the note. 

_Dear Ron, _

How are you? Thanks for the letter -- I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon. 

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark. 

Send me an answer as soon as possible. 

Love, Charlie 

They looked at one another. "This is getting bloody complex, isn't it." Harry sighed. "We've got the invisibility cloak. It shouldn't be too difficult -- I think the cloak's big enough to cover two of us and him. They agreed. It was the only way to get rid of Norbert -- and Malfoy's ability to get them in trouble.

* * *

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madame Pomfrey -- would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous. 

Harry, Blaise and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed. It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madame Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me -- I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me -- I shouldn't have hit him after the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this." 

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, trying to calm him. 

But it didn't work. On the contrary, a nasty word flew out of his mouth. "Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh, no -- oh no -- I've just remembered -- Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert." 

They didn't get the chance to answer as Madame Pomfrey swept back into the area and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

* * *

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told the other two. We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we _have_ got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that." 

Saturday night, Blaise stayed behind in the Slytherin dorms, trying to belay any suspicions the others might hold on the night's goings on. Harry and Hermione were the ones who would be the ones to get Norbert up to the Astronomy Tower, Harry for his extraordinary hearing and Hermione for her magical skill. It was the perfect night for it, dark and cloudy, which would aid the men coming in to take the little dragon. Harry and Hermione were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. 

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate. "He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely." From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as though the teddy was having his head torn off. "Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Hermione covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mummy will never forget you!" 

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, the never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the quiet corridors. Up another staircase, then another -- even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier. 

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower. Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Instinctively, they shrank as close to the wall as they could get, praying that Norbert would keep quiet, listening to or staring at two people grappling with each other ten feet away. 

Professor McGonagall shouted, "Detention! And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how _dare_ you --" 

Harry had a heart-stopping moment when he thought that McGonagall had somehow seen him, but Malfoy's voice interrupted her. "You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming -- he's got a dragon!" 

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on -- I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!" 

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione giggled. "Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!" 

"Don't. The bloody tattle tail!" 

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the silent night. 

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They had rigged a harness so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry and Hermione shook hands with the others and thanked them very much. At last, Norbert was going...going..._gone_. 

They covered themselves in the cloak again and slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon -- Malfoy in detention -- what could spoil their happiness? 

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. Peeves blew by them at tremendous speed, and the cloak fell to the steps behind them as they stepped into the corridor and Filch's voice came quietly out of the space in front of them. "Well, well, well," he whispered, "we _are_ in trouble." 

Lest it be discovered and confiscated, they were forced to leave the cloak where it lay as they continued on under the watchful eyes of the caretaker.

* * *

_Another one out of the way. This one was long, but I finally got it done! Review please! _


	10. The Forbidden Forest

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: Okay, I think I'll be able to change a few things in this one. Hopefully this will be much more original from here on out. Wish me luck. Also, to those who are asking, yes I intend to do this one year at a time. Draco will start to get over himself in second year, thanks in great part to the bloody big snake, which I have some interesting plans for, btw. He will become friends with Harry in third year and figure out his feelings in fourth year, when he gets more than a little jealous of Cho, who will still be Harry's date for the Yule Ball. Then things will start to heat up around fifth year, and hopefully explode nicely in sixth, giving Harry a solid base to fight from in seventh year. Fifth year will be interesting in many ways, as I haven't yet decided on whether or not to keep Sirius, although I know several people (my beta among them) who would murder me along side him if I kill him off. I'm kind of making a list of problems that Harry will have to deal with and how those things will have to be changed after first year, which is by far the closest to canon I will ever get. 

Anyway, on with the show!

* * *

**As A Bat**

The Forbidden Forest

_"Explain yourselves_!" 

Harry, Hermione and impossibly Neville all stood in front of Professor McGonagall. Harry shook his head and thought, _Blaise is going to kill me._ Then he took off his shades. He didn't stare at the Professor, which he only did to intimidate or to strengthen his position, but kept his eyes down and prepared to lie his arse off. Eyes down and glasses off gave him a more honest appearance, which he had worked tirelessly one year with one of the older orphans at Mung Street to perfect. It was time to dance, as Athan had always said. "This is entirely my fault, Professor. None of Gryffindor is to blame here." He sighed sadly. "Have you ever looked at the stars, Professor? I've heard people all my life talk about how beautiful the sky could be. So I talked Hermione into coming up to the tower with me tonight. Malfoy heard us talking about the constellation Draco, how it looked like a dragon, and I guess he fed that story to Neville. He was only doing the Gryffindor thing and trying to warn us." He snorted bitterly. "And isn't it just my luck, the sky was clouded over tonight." He guessed that by the amount of moisture in the air and prayed that either he was right or the professor didn't check on it. Now he looked up, still not staring, but briefly moving his dead eyes across Professor McGonagall's face. "Please, don't punish them for my foul ups." 

A groan and a wooden creak signaled the professor leaning back in her chair. "Four students out of bed in one night! This is utterly ridiculous!" She sighed. "And yet I can understand. Thank you, Mr. Potter, for your honesty, but this can't be overlooked, no matter how much I might understand it. All three of you will loose twenty points, and you, Mr. Potter, will be serving detention. _Nothing_ gives a student the right to walk around the school at night. Does this seem fair?" 

Harry nodded and put his glasses back on his nose. Well, at least he'd gotten the other two out of detention. That was something. "Yes, Professor." The other two students echoed him. 

"And Mr. Potter? If you wish, I will talk to Professor Snape about getting you a seat in Astronomy, audit only. That way, someone could legitimately show you the stars on a night when it is allowed and not so cloudy." 

He smiled widely at her. "That would be wonderful!"

* * *

"Are you turning into a bloody Gryffindor, Potter!? What the hell possessed you to take the blame for this?" 

Harry was right. Blaise was furious when he told him the next morning all that had happened during the night. "I was trying to minimize the damage, Blaise. McGonagall respects self-sacrifice, and she'd never expect if from a Slytherin. She's a Gryffindor, and I know how to play the angles. Besides, what do you think would have happened if I had just stood there and panicked, not saying a bloody thing? She was well and truly pissed, Blaise. She probably would have given all of us detention and taken fifty points rather than just twenty. And don't think I'm not going to slam Draco into a wall for his mouth, see if I don't!" 

"Harry --" 

"Blaise, I did my best to get out of it. I could tell that after the load I sold her she didn't want to do anything at all, but you know she's one of the fairest teachers here. She had to do something, and this is as little as she could get away with. And if I can help it, I don't want to ever lie to her again. She's too nice for her own good and I've taken advantage of her. I'll do it again if I have to, but I don't like it." 

Blaise was silent for a moment, thinking. Then he snorted. "You must be the most perfect balance between Gryffindor and Slytherin there ever was." He sighed. "All right, Harry. You seem to attract trouble, so I'm only going to say try and be careful." 

Harry smiled. "Of course."

* * *

There was a lot of anger floating around the next few days, as Gryffindor and Slytherin's losses had put Ravenclaw at the front of the race for the House Cup. Blaise told Harry not to worry about it, as the next Quidditch match was Ravenclaw against Slytherin, and Higgs was a much better Seeker than Cho Chang, who was on the team for the first time this year. 

Exams were coming, and everyone was soon too embroiled in their studies to worry about laying blame, too worried about remembering whether or not to combine dragon scales and mudwort and memorizing the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions... 

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry was walking back from the library one afternoon, having been doing a little research for Herbology on the properties of the gillyweed, when he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he herd Quirrell's voice. "No -- no -- not again, please --" It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer, trying to remain casual in case he were caught. "All right -- all right --" he heard Quirrell sob. 

The next second, Quirrell came swishing out of the classroom, the scent of garlic swirling around him like a miasma. As he continued on, Harry didn't think Quirrell had even noticed him. He waited until Quirrel's footsteps had disappeared, then stepped into the room and activated his bat pendant. There was no one in the room, but there was an open door on the other side of it. Deciding it wouldn't be prudent to check it out right now, Harry left the room, sure of just one thing. Something was going to break soon. 

Harry told Richard about it. "And I'm certain that there was something in that room with him, but I couldn't smell a thing with all that bloody garlic." Richard had no advice, other than to warn his young human friend to be cautious. "Always, Richard. Always."

* * *

The following morning Harry and Malfoy both received notes at the breakfast table. 

**Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall. **

_Professor M. McGonagall_

He didn't complain about it, knowing he'd done the right thing and willing to face the consequences of his actions, but Malfoy certainly did. "Honestly, punishing me for trying to alert them to Potter's rule-breaking. What's next!?" Harry just grinned, showing that he'd heard every word. 

At eleven o'clock that night, he grabbed his cane and then said good-bye to Blaise and went down to the entrance hall. Filch was already there with Malfoy. The caretaker said, "Follow me," lighting a lamp and leading them outside. "I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, his voice snide. "Oh yes...hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me...It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out...hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do." 

They marched off through the silent night. Harry wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted. In the distance, Harry heard Hagrid shout, "Is that you, filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started." 

If they were serving their detentions with Hagrid, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. His relief must have shown in his face, because Filch said, "I suppose you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy -- it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll both come out in one piece." 

At this, Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks. "The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night -- there's all sorts of things in there -- werewolves, I heard." 

Harry didn't think that would be a problem, as it wasn't a full moon tonight. He knew that from his audit in the Astronomy class. But Filch didn't correct the other Slytherin. That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?" Harry decided he wouldn't disabuse Malfoy of the notion. He'd caused him too much trouble. 

Hagrid came striding toward them from the direction of his hut, Fang slumphing along beside him. Something that Hagrid was carrying rattled, but Harry couldn't be sure what it was. "Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry?" 

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all." 

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, he? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here." 

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them." And he turned and started back toward the castle, his boots scraping the grass as he went. 

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid. "I'm not going into that forest," he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice. 

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it." 

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for student's to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this he'd--" 

"-- tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!" The silence was tense, but Malfoy didn't move. Finally Hagrid continued. "Right then, now listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want either o' yeh takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment." 

He led them to the very edge of the forest. They followed a narrow, winding earth track for a few feet. A light breeze lifted their hair as they stood there. 

"Now, look here," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground, Malfoy? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. Here, Harry, there's a stick with some on it. Yeh'll need the scent, I think." Harry easily categorized the scent. It was different than any other blood smell he'd ever encountered. It smelled like talcum powder and sea salt. He touched the substance, finding it a bit thicker than human blood. "There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery." 

Harry frowned at that thought. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do something like that. 

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice. 

There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right now, we're gonna split up an' follow the trail in different directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least." 

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly. 

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So, I'll go this way an' you two go that way. If anyone finds the unicorn, send up a load of green sparks. If yer in trouble, send up red ones." 

Harry sighed. "Hagrid? I wouldn't know the difference if it were dancing in front of me." 

"Then just make sure to send up some kind of sparks an' and I'll head yer way." Harry nodded. "Right then, let's go." 

Harry and Malfoy carefully navigated the trail, Harry following the poor creature's scent just as easily as Fang. Malfoy nervously asked, "Do you think it's a werewolf that's doing this?" 

Harry shook his head, answering absently as he continued to track the injured unicorn. "No. They aren't fast enough to catch one, and the moon isn't in phase. Don't forget, a werewolf is human for twenty-seven days out of the month. It's only when the moon is full you have to fear one. And a unicorn is a powerful magic creature. Not only are they wicked fast, but they've got plenty of their own defenses." 

Malfoy groaned. "And we're out here looking for the thing that _could_ hurt one? I swear, everyone in that school is mad!" Harry just grinned. 

They walked for over an hour, and the scent was getting stronger with every meter they went. The brush was also getting thicker, and the trail more erratic. Harry had his ears stretched to their limits, hoping beyond hope to find some sound of a live unicorn. The blood spatter was indicating that it was thrashing around in pain, or trying to throw something off it's back. Unfortunately, it was probably both. The scent was so strong now that even Malfoy could smell it. 

Malfoy said, "There it is. It's not moving." 

_Damn._ He had hoped to save the creature. Now all they could do was find whatever killed it and stop it. 

Malfoy would have gone forward to investigate, but Harry threw up his cane to block his housemate's progress. "Wait. Something's still over there." Harry could hear it, a slithering sound. Then the smell of unicorn blood suddenly got stronger. Malfoy screamed like a girl and bolted, followed immediately by Fang. Harry brought his cane into a defensive position and started to bring his magic to the fore, ready to defend himself. 

Then a pain like he'd never felt before pierced his head; it was as thought his scar were on fire. He staggered backward from it. He heard hooves behind him and something jumped clean over Harry, charging at the creature that had killed the unicorn. 

The pain in Harry's head was so bad he fell to one knee, supporting himself with the cane. It took a minute or two to pass. Shaking his head to loose the residual ache, Harry stood and was surprised when a hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped to the side, bringing his cane up again, fearing that this was the same creature that had just killed the unicorn. A voice came out of the night. "Peace. I do not seek to harm you, and the one who does has gone." 

Logic asserted itself in his mind. If this creature had wanted him dead, he would be. The one who did had been frightened off by him. "Who are you? Or better, what are you?" 

"I am Firenze, a centaur. Are you all right?" 

Harry assessed himself. There was a mild residual pain between his eyes, but nothing like it had been. "Yes, I'm fine now. What did you just save me from?" 

"You're that Potter boy, aren't you? You need to get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time -- especially for you. Can you ride? It'll be faster." 

"Never tried to ride anything but a broomstick, but there's a first time for everything." He reached out a hand toward the voice of the centaur, who took his hand and lead him around to his side. Then the equine creature knelt down on his forequarters so that Harry could mount him. 

Harry had just seated himself securely and collapsed his cane when more galloping sounded in the near distance. Two sets of hooves, if he counted correctly. A new voice came out of the dark. "Firenze! Why do you have a human on your back!? Are you a common mule?" 

Harry'd read that centaurs hated humans, and with reason. Their kind had once been enslaved by man along with their non-sentient cousins as beasts of burden, and they'd been treated none too gently, either. "Please, sir, he's only getting me out of your way. I'm blind, you see, and I'm afraid I've got rather turned around." He prayed that Firenze would go along with his play on the sympathy card. Centaurs weren't known for lying, but he sensed that this one would be in deep trouble with the herd for this. 

There was a smile in Firenze's reply. "No need to lie for me, young human. I can get out of my own trouble." Then to the other centaurs he said, "Do you not realize, Bane, that this is the Potter boy? The quicker he leaves this forest the better." 

"What have you been telling him?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have you not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?" 

For the first time, a third voice spoke. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," came the gloomy voice. 

"For the best? What has that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!" 

Firenze suddenly reared his hindquarters in anger, leaving Harry to hold on for dear life. "Do you not see that unicorn? Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must." Then Firenze whirled around; with Harry hanging on as best he could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Bane and his companion behind them. 

Harry thought he understood some of what was going on, but he wanted confirmation. "Why's Bane so angry?" he asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?" 

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed incase of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. Harry thought he might have been a bit too nosy, so he didn't ask again. The trees seemed closer, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped. "Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?" 

"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions." 

"That is because it is a monstrous thing to slay a unicorn. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips." 

Harry was silent. Who'd be that desperate? Wouldn't death be better? Then, like a jolt of electricity it came to him. The Philosopher's Stone! If someone only needed to hold on for a while until he could get hold of the Elixir of Life, then the curse of the unicorn would only be temporary. And he could think of only one who would need eternal life so desperately. "Voldemort." He remembered the twins talking to him on the train and saying that Voldemort was dead. Fred had said, "No one really knows. I doubt it, though." And George had responded. "Yeah. Too bloody minded to die properly." 

Suddenly Hagrid's voice called out in front of them. "Harry! Harry, are you all right?" 

"I'm fine. The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there." 

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now." 

Harry slid off his back, taking out his cane and extending it once he was on solid ground. "Good luck, Harry Potter," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times." 

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him. Malfoy, who had run straight to Hagrid walked up beside him. "What was it?" 

Harry just sighed. He didn't know if he could trust Malfoy with the information. "Something that should have died a long time ago."

* * *

Harry had found his invisibility cloak concealed beneath his sheets when he got back to the dorm, a note in Braille pinned to it that said, _Just in case._ He rather thought it might have been Dumbledore who kept slipping it to him, but he was grateful no matter what. 

Harry got all his friends together in the library in front of the fire, casting a silencing charm he'd learned from Fred around their immediate space. He'd brought Richard with him, too, knowing that the little snake would pester him until he had all the information Harry had. He told them all that had occurred last night. Ron chuckled a bit when he got to the point when Malfoy ran off screaming, but Harry just said, "And what would you have done? I'd have run myself if my scar hadn't been burning so badly, and running is a difficult proposition when you're blind and can't see what you might trip over." So Ron shut up. 

Once he'd finished, including his own conclusions they all sat in silence, thinking over what Harry'd discovered. Voldemort was trying to come back. He was the one after the Stone. Richard posed the next question. "But how is he getting into the school to do all that he has done?" 

Harry went over his memories of the detention in his head. Then something came to him, something he just hadn't noticed at the time with all the action and the centaurs arguing. The scent. There had been the overwhelming scent of unicorn blood, of course, but underneath it had been something else. "Garlic. I could smell it under the blood. Voldemort smelled like garlic." 

Hermione, Ron and Blaise all got it at the same moment. "Quirrell!" 

Harry nodded. "That's got to be it. Somehow, Quirrell is carrying Voldemort with him. Firenze said that unicorn blood would cause you to live a cursed half life. Not quite dead, I'm guessing something between a ghost and a corpse. A shade. He'd need a body, and apparently, Quirrell's it." 

Blaise was nervous as he spoke. "Harry, I think you should leave this alone." 

Hermione spoke up. "You should tell Dumbledore, or at least Snape. He's your head of house. He'd believe you." 

Harry smirked. "Yeah, right. What am I going to tell him? I think Quirrell is hosting Voldemort because he stinks? I don't have any proof, Hermione, and Snape already hates me for some reason. I'd rather not give him any more ammunition." 

"What if he tries to come after you again?" That was Ron. 

"I can't see why he hasn't already." 

Hermione said, "Dumbledore. He was the one wizard that You-Know-Who was always afraid of. As long as Dumbledore's around, he can't touch you." 

"I hope you're right." But in Harry's heart, he knew that Voldemort would try to kill him again. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed. It wasn't quite as long as the last chapter, but that one was a combination of two chapters because I had to cut out the Quidditch game. Anyway, review please! _


	11. Through the Trapdoor

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: First, to Kiriko-sama, thank you very much! But just a warning, Crystal Egg is not anywhere near ready for its first posting. There will probably be changes especially in the second chapter, and it isn't even finished yet. Second, thanks again to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story. It means a lot to me to know you guys are out there. 

PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTES BEFORE ASKING QUESTIONS! I give important information in those notes, not just random rambles and thanks. Sorry for yelling, but it gets a little frustrating when someone asks a question about the chapter in which the author's note answers them. 

For those of you who are on the Glasses Reflect mailing list, thanks for helping out with the keys! It was the only real problem I had with this chapter, and you guys made the facts click in my head rather quickly. (My muse has a day job and I couldn't ask her at the time. Very frustrating.) 

I have the title for book two. A bit predictable, I suppose, but "The Heir of Slytherin" it is. And while the title will change in the title line, I won't be posting it separately. (Saerry Snape really is one of my favorite writers, but I remember the day she posted her separated story (Not Myself) and everyone who had her on their author alerts got a hundred and forty-two e-mails in one day, including me.) 

Finally, I'm accepting votes on whether Gryffindor or Slytherin wins the House Cup. Slytherin got the Quidditch Cup due to Gryffindor having to scramble to find a Seeker. (Don't ask the name. I haven't figured it out yet, and it's not a big deal right now.)

* * *

**As A Bat**

Through The Trapdoor

In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Quirrell to curse him in class or come after him at any moment. He prayed that the demon possessing him had decided that he wasn't a threat, but he sincerely doubted it. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door. Quirrell was waiting for something, but Harry couldn't take a guess as to what that was. 

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. Everyone else had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell. To be fair, though she assured him that she didn't doubt his integrity, Professor McGonagall put the same spell on his typewriter, promising to take it off after he completed his written exams. 

And then there were the practicals. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox -- points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion. 

Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his scar, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest. He thought they were connected somehow to Voldemort, not thinking it was a coincidence that they were only occurring after he'd had a direct confrontation with the person who put the scar there in the first place. The other boys in the dorm, save for Blaise, kept laughing at Harry for being so nervous about exams, assuming that they were the cause of his lack of sleep, but Harry kept having his old nightmare, worse than ever with the horrible addition of the mixed scents of human and unicorn blood. 

The others didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harry, but then they didn't have him in their nightmares, didn't have burning curse scars on their noses, and didn't see what Harry had experienced in the forest. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, and still none of them would speak his name, but it wasn't as immediate for them, and they were too busy with studying to worry about Quirrell. 

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd inventing self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry couldn't help cheering with the rest. 

As Harry and Blaise joined Ron and Hermione on the grounds, the sun was warm and Hermione was going through the exam out loud. Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasly twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. Blaise described the sight to Harry, who chuckled at it. 

Ron was praising the fact that they had no more studying to worry about when Harry's scar flared up again. He let his shades fall into his lap as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying instinctively to get rid of the migraine-inducing pain. "I wish I knew for sure what this _means_!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting -- it's happened before, but it's never been this bad before." 

"Go to Madame Pomfrey," suggested Hermione. 

"I'm not ill. I think it's connected to the one who gave me it." He knew better to mention Voldemort where people other than his friends could hear him. He hated the sound of people gasping and running the other way. 

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot. "Harry, relax. Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down." 

Harry nodded, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was missing something. It was just beyond his field of thought. It had nothing to do with work, of that he was certain. He sat back and listened to the world around him, just drifting, trying to let the thought come to him. He could hear an owl, barely, because it was flying with a letter and the paper rustled in the wind. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy ... never ... but-- 

Harry jumped to his feet, quickly charming his bat into screeching so he could "see" where he was running. 

"Where are you going?" shouted Blaise as Harry tore off across the lawn. The other Slytherin and the two Gryffindors hurried to follow him. 

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He knew the blood had drained out of his face, as he'd felt it do so. "We've got to get to Hagrid, now." 

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up. 

"Don't you think it's a bit odd that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people would wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see this before?" 

"Um, Harry--" 

"Figure of speech, Ron." 

"But what are you talking about?" Harry was to busy concentrating on locating any objects in his path, like rocks, so he didn't answer. 

Hagrid was outside, the sound of peas hitting the bottom of a wooden bowl surrounding him gently. "Hullo," he said, a smile in his voice. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?" 

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off. 

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?" 

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "He wouldn' take his cloak off." All the students looked stunned. "It's not that unusual, he get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head -- that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, migtn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up." 

Harry sat down next to the bowl. "What did you talk about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?" 

"Mighta come up. Yeah...he asked what I did, an' I told him I was a gamekeeper here...He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after...so I told him...an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon...an' then...I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks...Let's see...yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted...but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home...So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..." 

"And did he -- did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm. 

"Well -- yeah -- how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep --" Hagrid stopped. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that! Forget I said it!" 

"Hagrid, I just have one more question about this bloke. Did he smell like he'd been eating Italian?" 

"Well, now that yeh mention it -- Hey! Where're yeh goin'?" 

No one said a word until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed frigid after the warmth of the grounds. Harry said, "I've got to go to Snape now. There's no other alternative. Voldemort has the key to getting past Fluffy. He's just been biding his time for some reason. I just hope he believes me. Firenze might back me up if Bane doesn't stop him." 

Blaise said, "Believe me, Harry, no matter what he has against you, Snape will take this threat seriously. He has reason." Harry decided to ask later what his friend meant by that. 

Hermione said, "We should go to Dumbledore, as well." 

Harry nodded. "Right. Is his office closer than Snape's?" But no one knew where Dumbledore's office was. 

"What are you three doing inside?" Professor McGonagall's voice rang across the hall. 

Hermione said, "We want to see Professor Dumbledore." 

"Why?" The professor sounded suspicious. 

Harry tried to waffle. "It's a bit of a secret." He didn't want to get the Gryffindor head of house involved if he could avoid it. But she didn't take kindly to it. 

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once." 

A cold rock settled in Harry's stomach. That was far too convenient! "He's gone _now_!?" 

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time --?" 

"Professor, I apologize, but this is extremely important. I realize that the Headmaster's time is valuable, but this is a serious problem, and with him gone, that problem just got worse. I have reason to believe that Voldemort has an agent inside this castle and is planning on stealing the Philosopher's Stone." Caution be damned, they needed adult help with this! 

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. She dropped a load of books, and Harry didn't hear her trying to pick them up. "How do you know --?" 

"A long story and there is little time. He'll probably go after it as soon as curfew is enforced. Is there any way to get Professor Dumbledore back here?" 

There was a long pause. Then, "He'll be back tomorrow. I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected, and if You-Know-Who has an agent here, then he will be disappointed." 

"But Professor --" 

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine." 

But they didn't. "No way will Quirrell not go tonight. It's too good an opportunity for him to pass up. In fact, I'll bet the Ministry will be quite shocked when Dumbledore shows up. He's fed on the unicorns, and he's as strong as he's going to get until he can get that Stone." Then Harry heard the peculiar swishing and gait of Professor Snape. "Professor, how are you this afternoon?" 

"I'm well, thank you. What are you lot doing inside on a day like this?" 

"Professor, I wonder if I might have a word with you later? It concerns what we've been talking about, but I don't think we should speak of it where we'll be seen. I'd like to retain what edge we have left. With Dumbledore gone, someone will no longer be intimidated." 

Snape didn't care for the Potter boy, that was more than clear, but he knew that the Headmaster's absence could readily be taken advantage of, and he wanted to know what information the boy had. "Very well. Send me an owl in one hour with any information. I will see what can be done. Do not attempt any more night-time wanderings, Potter. Let me handle the situation. Good day to you." 

As soon as Snape was out of earshot, Harry said, "Blaise, get up to that door and put an alarm on it, the loudest one you know. Hermione, see if you can keep track of Quirrell. Ask him any question you've ever had about Defense, but try and keep him in your sights. Ron, go with Hermione and back her up. I've got an owl to write. I'll owl you all as soon as I know what Snape is going to do. And if the alarm goes off, I'm going after him, and I don't want you three following me for any reason. You know where I'll be, and you'll need to owl Dumbledore with the information." 

Ron said, "Harry, I'm not letting you go in there alone." 

"Ron, I may be willing to risk my own neck, but I don't want anyone else getting hurt." 

Hermione spoke up. "Harry, you're talking about a fully grown dark wizard, one powerful enough that a shade has been able to use him without even harming him for an entire school year, probably longer." For a shade's very presence tended to destroy those it needed to survive. "And there's all the other enchantments that the professors have provided. No way are we letting you go in there alone." 

Harry shook his head. "Bloody Gryffindors. All right. You can come. We'll use the invisibility cloak to get there. It should cover all three of us." 

Blaise couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Harry, what are you thinking!? How can you even be considering this hair-brained scheme? Why aren't you just going to let the adults handle it? I mean, we're only eleven years old!" 

"I'm hoping that the adults _will_ handle it, Blaise, but we have to be prepared in case they don't. I refuse to see the man who murdered my parents not only returned to full power but gain immortality as well! He will destroy the wizarding world, and everyone in it. Someone once said that the best defense is a good offense. That's what this is about." 

Blaise was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. "I've got to think about my own skin, Harry. You're always thinking six steps ahead, but I can't do that. I've got to think about the immediate future, and I have no wish to die tonight. I've got to tell you, though, your Gryffindor side certainly brings out the best of Slytherin. If that alarm goes off, I'll stay behind and get that owl to Dumbledore. That's all I can do. I hope you don't think me a coward." 

Harry put his hand on Blaise's shoulder. "Of course not, my friend. You're just the most sensible one here. And someone's got to be sensible around here." 

Blaise's voice lightened. "All right. Well, hopefully the adults will take us seriously, but if they don't, then good luck." 

Harry snorted. "Thanks. We're going to need it."

* * *

Harry typed his letter quickly, then briefly translated it so that he could read over what he'd written and make sure it was concise. Then he rolled it up and sent it with Hedwig. Richard had been watching him write in silence, but once the owl was on her way, the little snake spoke up. "What's going on, Harry?" 

Harry turned to face the sibilant voice, removing his shades and laying them on his desk. "I am trying to let my elders handle a very dangerous situation, but they are too used to ignoring the worries of the young as being the product of ignorance. Mere children couldn't possibly know more than adults, could they?" 

"They may know more, but that doesn't keep them from being foolish, especially with your race." Harry grinned, and Richard continued. "You have done all you can?" 

"To get their attention, yes. But I didn't leave it up to chance, either. Even if they do not take us seriously, when the thief goes after his prize, an alarm will sound, and when it does, I will go to the door. If an adult hasn't already gone in after him, then I will, along with Ron and Hermione. Blaise will stay behind and tell them what we've done." 

Richard hissed out a sigh. "Why are you risking so much, youngling? Why is this thief so important to you?" 

Harry's sigh echoed that of his reptilian friend. "He killed my sire and dam, Richard, and if he is allowed to regain strength through this Stone, then more and more young humans will face the same fate. Being in that orphanage has given me a lot, including you, but humans were meant to be reared by their parents. When they are gone, that youngling's world is a harsher and sadder place, no matter how many wonderful friends they have. I would not wish it on anyone." 

"I won't pretend to understand completely, Harry, but you must stop him to protect others. A time for even a snake to be brave. Will I be of any use in this fight?" 

"I don't think so, Richard. This one can speak to snakes like I can, and he may even be able to control them. I wouldn't want to risk that. Please don't follow me." 

"I don't like it." 

"Richard--" 

"I know. I'll stay here. Don't you die on me, Harry." 

Harry smiled and relaxed a bit. "I promise to try and stay alive, my friend."

* * *

Harry waited impatiently for Snape's response to his letter, and when it finally came, he was not disappointed. 

_**I am surprised, Mr. Potter, at how well you have put this mystery together. You are to be congratulated, though the way you gained your information was certainly worthy of far more detentions than you have received for it. I'll let that slide. But do not take this matter into your own hands! I will listen for the alarm, as I agree that tonight will be the perfect opportunity for You-Know-Who to act. He likely engineered Dumbledore's little trip, as I'm sure you've surmised. I will stop him from reaching the Stone. Well done, Mr. Potter.**_

So, knowing that they wouldn't get any sleep that night, Harry and Blaise, along with Richard, went to the Gryffindor common room to wait it out. Unsure why, but knowing he would kick himself if he needed it and was unprepared, Harry brought his father's cloak with him, folded neatly and slipped under his jumper along the small of his back. With the jumper tucked into his trousers, there was no worry that the cloak would slip and fall, revealing itself. 

They sat together by the fire, ineffectively trying to pass the time with wizard's chess. Even Ron was making stupid mistakes due to his mind being elsewhere, though he usually caught himself in time to prevent any losses. Not hard when he was playing against Hermione, who had absolutely no head for the game. 

When the alarm went off, they waited tensely for the second sounding that would indicate that Snape had followed Quirrell in to stop him and Voldemort from reaching the Stone. But it never came. Harry whispered, "Any chance that the alarm would only go off once?" 

"No way," answered Blaise. "Any time that door is opened until I take the ward off, the alarm will sound. Snape hasn't gone in." 

Harry nodded. "Very well. Let's go see what's going on. If he's just late, we'll come back here immediately." 

But as they stood to leave, Harry heard a toad chirp. "Trevor. Go find Neville, little toad." All they would need was the toad's noise to alert the dorm that someone was sneaking out. 

Then Neville's voice came from one of the big arm chairs that were facing away from the fire. "Neville's right here. And if you lot go out again, we're all going to loose more points!" 

Ron groaned. "We haven't got time for this, Neville! This is important!" 

Neville snorted. "Like Harry's stargazing was important? No! I won't let you four out of here. I'll fight you if that's what it takes!" 

Hermione pulled her wand. "I'm really sorry about this, Neville. _Petrificus Totalus!_" 

Harry knew the spell and what it would do, so he was ready when the young Gryffindor started to topple. He stopped Neville from landing on his nose, and with Blaise's help, propped him up against the wall, far enough away from the fire so that he wouldn't be singed, but close enough for him to be as comfortable as possible given his current condition. 

Ron said, "What was that!?" 

Blaise answered, "Full Body Bind. Not bad, Hermione." 

"Oh, Neville! I'm so sorry! We'll explain everything when we get back, I promise." 

Harry turned to Blaise. "Send that owl. Go ahead and release Neville once we've gone, try to explain things to him. We've got to get down there, now!" 

They crept as silently as they could toward the stairs that would lead to the third floor corridor. Along the way they nearly ran into Mrs. Norris, but she let them pass for some reason. Then Peeves spotted them, sort of. "Who's there? Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?" He moved closer, dropping the temperature of the air as he approached. "Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen." 

Suddenly the air got even colder, and a familiar voice came out of the darkness. "Peeves, the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible." Peeves blubbered for a while, then Baron Malfoy cut him off. "I have business here, Peeves. Stay away from this place tonight." 

"I will, sir, I most certainly will. Hope your business goes well, I'll not bother you." And then the poltergeist left as fast as he could. 

Ron said, "Brilliant, Harry!" 

Harry chuckled. "Wasn't me." 

Baron Malfoy chuckled. "It does me good to send that creature skittering off like the newly dead." Ron squeaked in surprise. "Now, what are you three up to?" 

Harry said, "That alarm should have gone off twice. Something could be very wrong." 

Concern colored the spirit's voice. "I'll follow you. Dumbledore would have me exorcised if I went into the gauntlet, but I'll see what help I can be of to you from this end." 

"Thank you, Baron." 

A few moments later they reached the door that led to Fluffy's lair, and found Professor Snape unconscious in front of it. Harry knelt down and felt for a pulse. "Pulse is strong. Baron Malfoy, could you alert Madame Pomfrey? There's no time for us to do it." 

"Of course. Good luck in there, children. You are going to need it." And with that, his chilly presence retreated. 

Harry pulled the flute that Hagrid had given him for Christmas and began playing. Ironically, the only tune that would come to mind was "Twinkle, Twinkle" but it worked, and with the music already sounding, they went through the door. The alarm screeched for a while, but as soon as the door was shut again, it silenced. Fluffy had twitched a bit at the discordant sound, but quickly settled at the flute's soothing tones. Ron and Hermione got the trap door opened and dropped down into it. Then Harry followed, his cane finding the edge of the hole easily. 

Harry hated falling. When you couldn't see, it was bound to be one of your biggest fears. But the landing was soft, and Harry took a shaky breath to calm his racing pulse. Then he heard the muffled yelling of his friends and felt the twining of a tentacle around his legs. Hermione got her mouth clear for a moment and shouted "Devil's Sn--" before it covered her mouth again. Harry pulled his wand and quickly lit the Devil's Snare ablaze. As the plant writhed in pain, the students were dropped again, this time landing on stone. 

Harry heard an ominous crack as he landed. He felt up along the length of his cane. Sure enough, it had snapped in two. "Bloody hell." 

"Don't swear, Harry." 

"My cane's snapped. I can't risk starting the bat charm. Quirrell will hear it." 

Hermione thought about it for a moment. "Harry, with that alarm, he already knows that someone is at his back." 

"Yes, but he doesn't know who. I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible. He wants me dead, Hermione." 

Ron said, "Well, we'll guide you as long as we can. You may have to use it later anyway, though." 

Not liking it, but agreeing that it might be the only way, Harry nodded. 

The passage wasn't as bad as he'd feared. The constant sound of their footsteps and the quiet drip of water along the stone made enough echoes that he wasn't completely in the dark, although the way the sound was bouncing around made things seem closer than they were at times. But soon another sound came to him, a soft rustling and clinking. When Ron heard it, he asked if anyone else did. Harry nodded. Ron asked, "Do you think it's a ghost?" 

"No. Baron Malfoy said that the ghosts weren't permitted down here. Besides, it sounds like wings." 

"There's light ahead -- I can see something moving." 

They reached the end of the corridor. Harry said, "Tell me what you see." 

Hermione told him, "It's a wide chamber with a vaulted ceiling, and it's full of small, shining birds. They're everywhere! Look, there's a door on the other side. That's the way out." 

Ron said, "Do you think they'll attack us?" 

"Probably," said Harry. "I'll make a run for it. Is there anything on the ground?" 

Hermione said, "No steps, no uneven blocks, no rubbish. It's a straight run." Then she pointed him in the correct direction. 

Harry took off as fast as he could, expecting at any moment to feel beaks or claws at his back, but they never came. Hermione shouted for him to stop, and he skidded to a halt just in time to avoid slamming into the heavy wooden door. Since Harry made it without incident, the other two quickly joined him. 

Nothing they did could get the door open, even Alohomora. "It's got to be the birds," declared Hermione. "They wouldn't just be in here for no reason." 

Harry said, "What do they look like?" 

So Hermione looked closer at them. Then she gasped. "They're keys!" 

Winged keys? "One of them must be the one to this door." 

"It'll probably be an old-fashioned silver one, like the lock." 

Harry shook his head. "I can't distinguish between different kinds of metal just by echoes, Ron." 

Hermione said, "But won't Quirrell have already caught it once? He's not here, so he obviously got through this challenge. It's probably been damaged." 

"Brilliant!" Harry listened carefully to the sounds that the keys were making, and after a minute or two, to his relief, he was able to hear one that was different. The damaged wing whistled slightly, a distinct sound that Harry would easily be able to track. "Got it. Now, how do we get it down?" 

Hermione said, "There's some brooms over in the corner." 

Ron went over and grabbed three brooms, one for each of them. Harry kept his attention on the key they needed and said, "All right. Can you both see it?" They told him they could. "Ron, you get above it and keep it from going too high. Hermione, you keep it from slipping underneath me. I'll try and catch it." 

They agreed, launching into the air. Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and Hermione would have cheered, but Harry cautioned them to silence. 

They landed quickly, and Harry went to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned -- it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, sounding even worse than before now that it had been caught twice. 

"Ready?" Harry asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. They uttered quiet affirmatives, and he pulled the door open. The next chamber was so dark that Ron and Hermione couldn't see anything at all. Harry only heard the echoes that told him of a large stone chamber with some sort of columns along the floor. Then torches along the wall lit themselves and the two sighted students gasped. "What is it?" 

Ron said, "It's a chess board." Ron described the room, a larger-than-life sized chess board with marble tiles and tall, stately chessmen carved from white and black stone, both sets faceless, blind. 

"We have to play the board, don't we." 

Ron agreed. Hermione said, "How?" 

"We join the chessmen." Ron walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life with hollow stone sounds. Ron asked the knight, "Do we -- er -- have to join you to get across?" 

The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other two. "This needs thinking about..." he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces..." Harry and Hermione stayed silent, letting Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess --" 

"We're not offended." said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do." 

Well, Harry, you take the place of the kingside bishop, and Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle." 

"What about you?" 

"I'm going to be a knight." The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and a castle walked off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harry, Ron and Hermione took. 

"White always plays first in chess. Yes, look." A white pawn had moved forward two squares. 

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost? 

"Harry -- move diagonally four squares to the right." 

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay silently. "Had to let that happen," said Ron, his voice shaking slightly. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on. Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones. 

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think -- let me think..." The white queen turned her blank face toward him. "Yes..." he said softly, "it's the only way...I've got to be taken." 

Hermione shouted, "NO!" 

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me -- that leaves Harry free to checkmate the king!" 

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. "Ron, can't you sacrifice something else?" 

"Nothing else will draw the queen off, Harry! 

"But --" 

"Do you want to stop him or not, Harry?" 

Harry knew that Ron was right. Time was slipping away from them, and they had no alternative. "Bloody Gryffindors!" 

Ron smiled. "Just make sure you don't hang around once you've won. There's no time." He stepped forward one square and then two to the left. The queen pounced, striking Ron hard across the head with her stone arm. He crashed to the floor -- Hermione screamed but stayed on her square -- the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He was unconscious. 

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. Harry said, "Checkmate." The king threw his crown at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen all moved out of the way of the door on the opposite side. Harry and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway. 

Hermione said, "What if he's --?" 

"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?" 

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell and Snape's..." They had reached another door. 

"All right?" Harry whispered. 

"Go on." Harry pushed it open. 

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils. Harry said, "Troll," as he and Hermione pulled their robes up over their noses. 

"It's already unconscious." 

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," said Harry. "Come on, I can't breathe." 

He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next -- but there was nothing very frightening here. Hermione described to Harry a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line. "Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?" 

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway behind them and in the one on the other side of the chamber. Hermione said, "The one behind us is purple and the one in front of us is black." They were trapped between the two fires. "Here we go. There's a roll of paper here." She began to read aloud. 

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forever more,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide  
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,  
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Hermione let out a great sigh of relief. "_Brilliant,_" said Hermione. "This isn't magic -- it's logic -- a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever." 

"You're better at these than I am, 'Mione. Go for it." 

"Give me a minute." Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she put it down. "Got it. The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire -- toward the Stone, and the one at the right end will get us back through the purple." 

"You drink that one. Get Ron and grab brooms out of the key room, they'll get you past Fluffy. Make sure he and Snape are all right and that Blaise got that owl off to Dumbledore. We need him." 

"But Harry -- that's You-Know-Who behind that door!" 

He smiled at her. "I got lucky once. I might again. Either way, it's got to be done." Hermione suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him. "Um, Hermione?" 

"Harry -- you're a great wizard, you know." 

"I'm not as good as you," he said, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. 

"Me! Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and -- oh Harry -- be _careful_!" 

"You drink first. You are sure which is which, aren't you?" 

"Positive." She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered. 

"It's not poison?" 

"No -- but it's like ice." 

"All right. Go, before it wears off." 

Hermione turned and walked through the flames. Harry took a deep breath and took up the smallest bottle, then turned toward the heat of the black flames that bared his way. "Here I come." He drained the little bottle in one gulp. 

It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, but he never felt a thing until the ice inside him thawed and he was safely on the other side. Of course, there was already someone else there.

* * *

_Sorry this one took so long. My RL has been impinging on my thoughts a little too often these days. Does it count as a cliffhanger if everyone reading this already knows what comes next? Remember to vote for who gets the House Cup! _


	12. The Man With Two Voices

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. _

A/N: Well, the votes are in. I'm sure some of you were counting. I thought there for a while we were going to have a tie, but later votes settled the matter. Now, remember when I said that I wasn't going to split this story up into separate books? Well, I changed my mind. My muse pointed out that if I did it this early in the story, it wouldn't cause the flood that it did when Saerry Snape did it, so I'm going to go ahead and do that, starting with the next chapter. Now, someone mentioned that I hadn't provided a link to Saerry's stuff and I was shocked at myself. Her ID here is 74156, and it has a link to her homepage. 

To Cressida Aliora, when Hermione repaired the bridge of Harry's glasses in canon, it was a single simple break of a very small piece. Harry's cane was too large, and it wasn't being held together, as the glasses were by tape. She could probably do it if she had time, but time was in rather short supply. 

As a side note, I'd like to wish my muse a Happy Birthday. Thanks for all the help you've given me on my various works, and for pushing me along when I need it, which I admit is rather often. And I know this is late, but you know how I am. 

* * *

**As A Bat**

The Man With Two Voices

It was Quirrell, of course. The garlic smell, though, was not as strong as it should have been, making Harry wonder if he would now be able to detect Voldemort directly. He said, "Hello, Professor Quirrell." 

The man's voice no longer shook as he spoke. "Bravo, Mr. Potter. I'd have thought that with Snape's obvious hatred for you, you'd blame him." 

Harry shrugged. "If Snape wanted me dead, I'd already be in the ground." 

Quirrell smirked at him. His voice fairly dripped with it. "Perhaps. But I suppose that dubious honor is left to me." He snapped his fingers and Harry felt ropes wrap themselves tightly around his body. "You're too nosy to leave alive, Potter, scurrying around the school on Halloween. I couldn't know if you'd seen me getting a look at that dog. Now wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror. It must be the key to finding the Stone." He tapped on something wooden, which inadvertently gave Harry what he needed to figure out the room. He had to fight to keep the smile off his face. It was the Mirror of Erised! "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this...but he's in London...I'll be far away by the time he gets back. I see what I want. I see myself giving the Stone to my Master. But how do I get it?" 

Long minutes passed while Quirrell muttered to himself, trying to figure out the Mirror's secrets. Harry's mind was racing, trying to figure out how Dumbledore would have used the Mirror to hide the Stone. He knew that, at this moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to find the Stone before Quirrell and Voldemort and then to get away from them with it, so if he could just get his hands on the glass, he would see himself finding it, which would tell him where it was hidden. But how could he do that without Quirrell realizing? 

Suddenly, Quirrell became agitated and started yelling. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Master, help me!" 

Then a second voice came from Quirrell, one that Harry had heard in his nightmares since he could remember. "Use the boy." 

"Yes, Potter. Come here, boy." Harry knew he had no choice, so when the ropes fell off, he didn't try to run. But they planned to use him? Did Voldemort realize, even if Quirrell didn't, that the Mirror would show him something despite his blindness? "Now, look in the mirror and tell me what you see." 

Harry snorted. Well Quirrell didn't get it at least. "What do you think I see? I'm blind. I see darkness." 

The other voice, and Harry decided that it had to be Voldemort, came quietly from the back of Quirrell's head. "He must touch the glass. The magic of the mirror is strong enough even for this." Damn. 

Harry sighed. There was nothing left for it but to lie his arse off. He knew that it would take something a bit different than what he'd spun for McGonagall. She might have fallen for that bit of sentimental and self-sacrificing drivel, but Voldemort was a very different sort. He was a Slytherin once, and needed careful handling if any falsehood was to be believed. "Go on, boy. Touch it." 

So Harry reached out and touched the cold, smooth surface. Instantly, his mind's eye could see, but this time it wasn't his parents who filled his vision, but the room around him. He saw Quirrell standing behind him, as it could be no one else since they were alone in the room, and he saw himself with his left hand still on the glass. But his reflection wore clear glasses, rather than shaded ones, and bright green eyes twinkled behind the lenses. The boy in the mirror dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out what had to be the Philosopher's Stone. Then he winked at his physical self and put it back, and Harry felt the Stone fall into his real pocket. 

Harry fought to keep his face from reacting to that, immediately thinking about the other times he'd looked into the Mirror of Erised. He acted as he had that first time seeing his parents. "Mum? Dad? Is this real?" After all, the best lie has a bit of truth in it. And as he spoke, the memory brought that wish back to the fore and they appeared for real in the Mirror. He touched the place where his mother's hand rested on his shoulder, fighting his addiction to the Mirror to keep his mind on the present situation so that he would have a chance to get away. 

Quirrell growled, "Bah! You're useless! Get out of my way!" He pushed Harry aside, knocking him to the ground, and Harry didn't take the opportunity amiss. He bolted for the door. He almost made it. 

Voldemort cried out, "Stop him! He has the Stone!" Harry's hand was on the door when he felt the same ropes as before warp themselves around him once again, and this time he was yanked backward by them. His scar was burning again, but he ignored it, forcing himself to focus. Harry's wand was in the same pocket as the Stone and he struggled against the ropes in order to get it and free himself. He'd be damned if he was going down without a fight, and he had to stall long enough for someone to come after him and get the Stone away from Voldemort. 

But Harry couldn't get it out. Voldemort's voice had a sneer in it. "Well played, Mr. Potter. You do your house credit. But surely you must see that you have lost. Why die for it? Join me, Harry. Together we could do such extraordinary things!" 

Harry's face had long since set itself in a scowl. He didn't think he was going to survive this without joining with the dark wizard. But Harry decided that he'd rather die than to do so. "The whole world thinks Slytherin is evil, and you're the cause of that. You dishonor your house! And you think I'll join you, who murdered my parents?" 

"Think carefully, Harry. Do you think they would want you dead? They would want you to live life to the fullest. But my servant is correct. You are far too inquisitive for your own good for me to allow you to continue living without having some hold on you. Don't worry about morality, Harry. There is no such thing as good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it." 

For a moment, Harry was tempted, if only because it would get him close to the bastard, close enough perhaps to kill him once he'd regained his power. And with the Stone in his pocket, that would happen now, either because he was dead and it was taken from him, or because he joined him and gave it in the hopes of destroying him later. But he shook his head. He just knew that his parents would be terribly disappointed with him, and so would his friends and teachers, and they meant a lot more to him than his own well being. "No. Morality isn't a weakness; it's a compass, a tool. If you come back to full power, I have no doubts as to the fate of the world, wizard and Muggle alike. So kill me, because that's the only way you're getting your hands on this rock." 

Voldemort laughed. "Bravery. You're just like them, you know, your parents. They needn't have died, but they did so to protect you. And now that sacrifice shall be in vain. Quirrell!" 

Harry still wasn't going down easily. He might not be able to get at his wand, but desperation reminded him that he didn't always need it. He thrust out with his magic, breaking the ropes that restrained him, and then cried out "Chiroptero Insonui!" The bat at his throat started screeching as loudly as it could. 

With the room as audible to Harry as it was visible to Voldemort and Quirrell, their footing was equalized somewhat. Harry drew his wand, but he knew he wasn't really good enough with magic yet to use it as a weapon, not against such an experienced opponent. Quirrell came flying at him, but Harry ducked, grabbing the broken rope off the ground as he rolled underneath. He then transfigured the rope into an ebony staff. The length of wood was carved to resemble Richard, including scales from head to tail that served to give Harry a better grip. It was something he'd had in mind for a while to replace his Muggle issue blind cane, and now that he needed a weapon, that was the best thing he could think of. He was almost glad, now, that the other cane had been destroyed. This one would serve him just as well and probably looked a whole lot better. 

Quirrell was a deadly dangerous wizard, there could be no doubt of that fact, and Harry was just a boy. But Harry had grown up in an environment full of bullies, and had done so with a serious disadvantage. Like the runt of any litter, he'd always had to fight for his survival, and long before he'd had any formal magical training. Still, though he hadn't expected Harry to produce a weapon instead of trying to fight him magically, a few well-aimed curses later and the staff had been knocked out of Harry's hands. Quirrell grabbed him by the neck, intending on choking the life out of him. 

But it didn't work. His hands started burning! He cried out in pain and jumped back, disbelieving of what had just happened. Voldemort shouted, "Get the Stone!" 

All the while, Harry's scar was sending shooting pains through his head, causing a migraine so blinding he feared he might loose the contents of his stomach before too much longer. But his mind was still working. When Quirrell touched him, he burned. The opposite should be true. 

Time seemed to slow for a moment. Quirrell leapt for Harry to try and rip his pocket open and get the Stone out of it, but Harry heard him coming and grabbed the arm that reached for him. Pain ripped through him again, but he fought it, refusing to let go. Quirrell had knocked them down and was leaning over Harry, but he was trying to back off to get a better angle. Harry wouldn't let him, and instead lifted a leg and kicked him in the chin. Then he jumped up and grabbed hold of any part of Quirrell's head that he could. This close, Harry couldn't help but feel the dark magic within the teacher and how it was reacting to his touch. Something was there, in his skin, that was seeking out the darkness with the intent to destroy it. 

Had he been in less pain, he might have recognized it, but he passed out from it instead.

* * *

Harry took quite a while to wake fully, but once he had, he realized that he had company. The sheer amount of power coming off the person in question told him all he needed to know. "Professor Dumbledore. Where am I?" 

"You're in the infirmary, Harry. You've been unconscious for three days. I dare say Messrs Weasley and Zabini and Miss Granger will be happy to hear that you are awake. In fact, the whole school has been sending you gifts and candies. I do believe that Messrs Fred and George Weasley tried to send you a toilet seat. I imagine they thought it would amuse you, but Madame Pomfrey confiscated it for hygienic reasons." 

That made Harry smile, but then the reason for his presence in the infirmary flashed across his consciousness. "Is the Stone safe? Is Professor Snape all right? And Ron and Hermione?" 

Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Relax, dear boy. All is as it should be. Mr. Weasley has recovered nicely from his accident, and Professor Snape was not injured, merely Stupefied. The Stone has been destroyed, and will no longer be of use to Voldemort." 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Still, "What of your friend, Mr. Flamel? He and his wife will die now." 

"Yes, they will. They have enough elixir to set their affairs in order. Don't worry. At their age, they are quite ready for it." 

Harry smiled. "Strange to think about, but I can see it." He sighed. "I have some questions. Will you answer them for me?" 

"If I can. And I won't lie to you if I cannot." 

"I know why he tried to kill me in the gauntlet, but why did Voldemort want me dead in the first place? He told me that my parents died to protect me from him. I was the target that night, and they were simply in the way. Why?" 

"Of course, the first question would be the one I cannot answer. Not yet. When you are older Harry. It is not something a child should have to bear. I promise, when you are ready, then you will know." 

That was irritating beyond belief, but Harry let it slide. For now. "There are other ways, aren't there. He will still be able to find a way back." 

"You're right, of course. There are ways in which he can still return. He will eventually find another, like Quirrell, that he can control, and he'll be able to use that person to do his work." 

"Why couldn't Quirrell touch me?" 

"Because of your mother's sacrifice, a mark of love was left in your very skin. It's not something that he could handle. Voldemort doesn't understand love, and one such as Quirrell, being controled by evil the way he was, would naturally be damaged by it." 

"What did you do to the Mirror? How was it that I got the Stone?" 

Dumbledore's voice was grinning. "Now that was one of my more brilliant ideas, if I do say so myself. Only someone who wanted to find the Stone, but not use it, would be able to get it." 

Harry did have other questions, but they were interrupted by the swishing of billowing robes and the thud of boot heels on stone. He smiled. "Hello, Professor Snape." 

There was something of a smile in the Potions Master's voice. "Do you have any idea how annoying that is?" 

Harry chuckled. "I've been told as much." 

Dumbledore stood and said, "Well, I'll just leave you two alone to talk." Then he moved out of the room, hardly making any noise at all. 

The door closed and Snape said, "Damned twinkling know-it-all." Harry didn't think he was meant to have heard that, so he kept silent. "So, Mr. Potter. I should take points for your having disobeyed me." 

Harry shrugged. "If that's what you must do, then do it. I did what I had to and will accept the consequences of my actions. But I hope you realize that I did try to obey. We only went after Quirrell when we realized that the alarm hadn't gone off twice, as it should have. Something had to have gone wrong." 

"Hmm." Snape was silent for a moment, then took a breath and said, "Well, Mr. Potter, as you only acted out of necessity, I shall forgo that punishment. However, if in the future you find yourself with a problem on your hands, I hope you will come to me sooner. I am your Head of House, and as such am charged with your protection." 

Harry raised an eyebrow at his professor. "May I ask a very frank question, Professor Snape?" 

"Yes?" 

"Why do you hate me so much? Even Voldemort noticed, and I don't think he's been with Quirrell the entire school year." 

Snape seemed irritated when he answered. "I do not hate you, boy. I don't even know you. I may have misjudged you, thought that you were just like your father, but I never hated you." 

"My father?" 

"During school he was an incurable bully. He grew out of it, but we never really reconciled our differences, and his death prevented that from ever happening. I'm really not the one to tell you much about him. I'm afraid my recollections would be rather - colorful." 

Harry desperately wanted to ask more, but decided to keep silent. There were other ways of getting the information that wouldn't annoy Snape. Instead he said, "I honestly think that Potions is a fascinating subject. I've always had a thing for plants, and wizarding Herbology is ever so much more complex. Potions uses that complexity practically. It's all connected, and it's very - um - intriguing." He sighed. "I just think that I would learn more if I didn't have to fight through every lesson. Is there any way that we can be civil to each other? I don't want you to show me favor, but-" 

Snape interrupted him. "You're right, of course. I'll be civil. Just don't expect much else." 

Harry smiled. "Thank you. Really, though I'm kind of glad that at least one person in this school doesn't seem to think I'm the best thing since sliced bread just because I survived a murder attempt." 

"That fame will follow you for the rest of your life, whether you want it or not. You're a Slytherin, my boy. Use it." 

"Oh, I do. Both the fame and my blindness cause people to treat me differently, and I'm not above using that to my advantage." He smirked, remembering the load of swill he'd fed McGonagall after the dragon mess. 

That small smile was back in Snape's voice. "Well, the Sorting Hat was certainly right about you, Mr. Potter. I didn't say it before, so I'll rectify that now. Welcome to Slytherin House." And with that, he stood up and thud-swished his way out of the room. Harry couldn't help but think that his next year of school was going to be different. He now knew that he had an ally among the staff other than Dumbledore.

* * *

Madame Pomfrey, the nurse, was very nice. She was also very strict. But even she was not immune to the charms of the blind orphan when he chose to use them, and he finally got her to allow his friends into the infirmary to visit him. Ron, Blaise and Hermione were an excellent audience for the story. 

Blaise said, "Well, looks like you were right, mate." 

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron. "Nicolas Flamel's just going to _die_?" 

Harry smiled. "At their age, I imagine death would seem like a great adventure. So what happened to you and Hermione?" 

Hermione answered him. "Well, I got back all right, and I brought Ron around and we got out of there. Snape was already headed back in. He demanded to know where you were, and when I told him, he said something rather crude and went in after you. I'll assume he didn't get bitten again, since he was able to get you out. He told us that points wouldn't be taken, but to consider ourselves lucky. Professor Dumbledore arrived just a bit after. He just seemed relieved that you would be all right." 

Harry nodded. Blaise said, "Neville was a little angry with you lot, but he understood why you couldn't wait or let him get in the way. He also called you a closet Gryffindor, which I happen to agree with." 

Harry grinned, then sobered. "Thank you all for helping me. I couldn't have done this alone." 

Ron seemed confused. "But you _did_ do it alone, Harry." 

The blind boy shook his head with a smile. "No I didn't. Blaise made sure that, should the worst have happened, Voldemort's return would not have gone unnoticed. Ron, you're the only one who could have gotten us through that chess set. Hermione solved Professor Snape's riddle much faster than I could have done. And you all gave me a stronger reason than my parents' deaths to resist Voldemort. I wouldn't lose any of you as friends for the world, or even my sight." 

Blaise was thoughtful as he asked, "Do you think Dumbledore intended for you to be able to get at the Stone?" 

Ron agreed. "Yeah. He was the one who gave you your father's cloak, or I'll eat my Christmas sweater." 

"That's terrible!" said Hermione. "You could have been killed!" 

"No, it isn't. I think he just wanted to give me the chance to face him. He knows a lot of what goes on around here, probably knew that we were looking into the mystery. It was likely that I'd give it a go, so he made sure that I had the advantage of knowing how the mirror worked." 

"Yep, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "So, are you going to be there for the feast tomorrow? Ravenclaw's won the cup, but the food'll be good." 

At that moment, Madame Pomfrey came over. "You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT!"

* * *

The next day, after having had a good night's sleep, Harry started wheedling Madame Pomfrey. "Please, Madame. I really want to go to the feast and be with my friends. They're the reason I made it out of this alive!" 

"Professor Dumbledore says that you are to be allowed to go. And you have another visitor." After straightening his numerous candy gifts, she went and let Hagrid into the room. 

Hagrid seemed intent on blaming himself, wailing about how he should be punished for his lack of ability in keeping secrets. "Hagrid! Do you honestly think that Voldemort wouldn't have found out how to get past Fluffy?" 

"Yeh could've died! An' don' say the name." 

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry snarled. "I've met him face to face and kicked his ruddy arse. I'm using his name." He sighed and calmed down, noting that Hagrid had been shocked out of his crying. "Please, Hagrid. He's been stopped, he'll never be able to use the Stone, and I'm just fine. Now, why don't you have one of those chocolate frogs? I've got so many, I'll be eating them for a month." 

The big man was a bit more cheerful when he said, "That reminds me, I've got yeh a present." 

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" Harry said cautiously. 

Hagrid gave a weak laugh at that. "Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off to fix it, shoulda sacked me instead, but anyway. He also put a spell on it, said it was the same kind's the one on 'is mirror." 

Harry took the object from Hagrid. It was a leather-bound book, and as he held it, Braille words raised themselves from the cover of it. It read, "Potter Family Album". Trembling, he opened it to the pages inside and touched them. Every page had a wizarding photograph that sent their images into his mind, and his mother and father were smiling or waving at him from every page. 

Hagrid said, "A lot of their old school friends sent 'em by owl. D'yeh like it?" Harry couldn't speak for the emotion, but Hagrid understood.

* * *

Harry made his way down to the feast alone that night, having been held up by Madame Pomfrey insisting on one last check up. The Great Hall was already full, and when he went through the doors, all conversation in the Hall ceased. Harry could feel the eyes on him as loud chatter replaced the silence and he walked across the stone floor to his customary seat beside Blaise. 

Thankfully, moments later, Dumbledore's arrival caused the attention to shift and the babble died away. "Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were. . .you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . 

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff with three hundred and fifty-two points, Gryffindor with three hundred and seventy points, Slytherin with four hundred and twenty-three points and Ravenclaw in first place with four hundred and thirty two points." Ravenclaw table errupted into cheers. 

"Yes, well done Ravenclaw! However, recent events, must be taken into account." The hall grew quiet again. "To Mr. Neville Longbottom, for knowing when it is time to stand up to even your friends and having the courage to do so, ten points. To Mr. Blaise Zabini, for knowing when discretion is the better part of valor, ten points. To Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best played game of wizard's chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, fifty points. To Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, fifty points. And finally, to Mr. Harry Potter, for using both bravery and cunning in the face of adversity, sixty points." 

Slytherin table was the loudest, of course, but the Gryffindors cheered for them, as well. The whole school considered Harry and Blaise to be the best of Slytherin House, not for grades, but for their willingness to put houses aside and be good friends. All of the Weasleys were on their feet aplauding, as were Neville, Seamus, Dean and Hermione. If it was the first time that Gryffindor had ever cheered Slytherin, no one made any comment.

* * *

Professor Snape called Harry to his office the next day, as the other students were packing to go home. Wondering what this was about, Harry knocked on the professor's door. "Come in!" As Harry entered, the Potions Master walked across to meet him, taking his hand to place the cane he'd transfigured in the mirror chamber in it. "I found this on the third floor, Mr. Potter. Very nice work. I wouldn't want you to loose it." 

Harry smiled a bit as his hand wrapped around the cool wood, more for the complement than for the return of his cane. "Thank you, Professor. What can I do for you?" 

"A small house is being built for you here on campus. Neither I nor Dumbledore felt that you should try to live with Hagrid, since he has no notion of how to live with a blind person, nor any real sense of organization. However, construction has only just begun, and will likely take at least a month to complete. Until that time, would it suit you to share my quarters? There is one spare bedroom which you may occupy until your home has been constructed." 

Harry was stunned. Even after what Professor Snape had told him when he woke up in the infirmary, Harry still didn't think that the man liked him very much, but this was not something he would do for someone he didn't care to associate with. "Thank you very much for the offer, sir, but I think it would be imprudent of me not to ask why." 

"Indeed. I would like to know you a little better, Harry, and apologize for my rudeness during the school year. And you need a place to stay." 

Harry nodded. "Very well. I accept. Thank you, Professor." He stood to go, then remembered something. "Oh, may Richard stay with me as well?" 

"Richard?" 

"A friend of mine, a garter snake. He lived in the garden at the orphanage and he's always been there to advise me when I've needed him. But he can stay in the green house if it's a problem. I planted a Serpent's Hutch there for him that he can use." 

"You're a Parceltongue?" The Professor sounded a little odd. 

"Yes." 

Professor Snape was silent for a moment. Then, "Very well, he can also stay in my quarters, but he'll need to understand that I often keep experimental rodents in cages, and he may not eat them. Not only would that ruin my experiments, but the potions that they would have consumed would be dangerous to him." 

Harry nodded. "Of course, Professor."

* * *

It was time for everyone to be going home for the summer, to spend time with their families and to do the homework that many of the professors had assigned to them. Harry, of course, wouldn't be leaving, but he wanted to see his friends off, so he rode with them in the carriages down to the Hogsmede train station. 

Hermione had a tearful farewell hug for him, Ron and Blaise both snickering until she gave each of them one as well. The Weasley twins still hadn't managed to successfully prank Harry, but they promised to try harder next year, to which he just grinned. Ron invited everyone to visit over the holidays and wished Harry good luck on staying with Snape. Harry sighed. "Honestly, Ron, he's not that bad. He even appologized for treating me so horribly. Not that I think he'll ever really change, but he'll at least be civil, and he might even help me with my homework if I have any trouble." 

Blaise snorted. "Like that's going to happen. I'd visit, Ron, but you know my father is never going to allow it. He's just like Malfoy's father regarding your family. I'm sorry." 

"It's all right. You can't choose your family. After all, I got Percy, didn't I?" 

Harry frowned at that. "Well, I hope you apreciate your family, Ron. Don't forget, Voldemort is still out there. He'll be trouble again, mark my words, and when he does, people are going to die. Percy may not be the best of brothers, but imagine what it would feel like to lose him." 

Blaise said, "Harry's right. My father is a fool, but he's still my father. I love him and I'd hate it if anything ever happened to him." 

"I know, you're both right, but he's such a git! It's hard to live with him most of the time. Well, I'll see you both next year, if not sooner. Good bye!" 

Blaise turned to Harry as Ron ran off to get on the train. "Why are you so sure he's coming back, Harry?" He sounded very worried. 

"He's very determined and very powerful to have lasted this long. He'll eventually find a way to return to life. The Stone couldn't have been his only shot at it. Magic is so vast and diverse. I know he'll find the key to it eventually." 

"And when he does? My father served him the first time around, and he'll do so again. You're going to be his enemy." 

Harry nodded. "I know. But that doesn't make me yours. I don't blame people for the mistakes of others, Blaise. You will always have a place to come if you need it." 

"Thank you, Harry. Watch for my owl." 

"Thanks, Blaise." 

And then everyone not already on the train had to get on it, and it chugged it's way toward London. "It's strange, isn't it Professor?" 

Professor Snape, who tried not to sound surprised that his student had already known he was there, asked, "What's strange?" 

"Seeing everyone leave. I've gotten used to having all these people around me, and now there will only be you, the Headmaster, Hedwig, Richard and Hagrid." 

"Perhaps. But they will all return. And you'll always have the owl post." 

Harry listened as the train moved through the Highlands, echoing through the ancient hills of Scotland as if it were shouting out it's own sorrowful fairwells. And it was good to know that they would come back. For another six years, he would always know where to find his family. They were right here.

* * *

_And that's it, ladies and gentlemen. The next one will be called "As A Bat, The Heir of Slytherin". Predictable, perhaps, but apropriate. Thanks to all of my reviewers for your comments, because you've given me more ideas than you know. _


End file.
